


Memoirs of a Mortician

by aroncorsier



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Def go read my other 3 fics first tho, Multi, Other, So I don’t like to consider my works a series bc they can be enjoyed individually, This one specifically is probably better with background
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2020-03-06 18:03:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18856219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroncorsier/pseuds/aroncorsier
Summary: Three gender-neutral OC’s (Who in their own stories, which you can access via clicking on my username— Hotel California, When in Rome, and Carbon Dating— act as the ‘reader’) are thrown into suddenly chaotic lives with the Undertaker one way or the other. One is by accident, one is under unfortunate circumstances, and one is a bit of a kidnapping situation... this is the tale of those 3 plots explained from the perspective of the Undertaker, as per request. My writing often involves violence and sexual undertones, very similar to the mood of many stories of Grelle and undertaker together, or so I find. First story is not particularly edgy, but as you progress there’s like, torture and kidnapping and some kinda nasty stuff but nothing super gross or uncomfortable (I don’t think. I do mental descriptions, how the character is feeling, rather than really nasty gritty gore details. I’m a bit too soft myself ;-; no incest, no real or graphic rape, just some flashbacks and some blood and stuff) I recommend reading my original fics first, seeing if you like the style, rejoin us <3. They’re all in actual reader/undertaker style.





	1. Chapter 1

It  
Is  
Here  
Hell yes. Enjoy

I flipped the flimsy key card over in my hand. It had been a while since I had been... deported... to the future, and though I hated being dragged back to work, I despised a poorly-executed effort far more.  
Three-night stay, give or take, if William had his dates right, which, let us be real...  
I had also debated, alongside whether or not I should just strangle the raven and walk away, wearing more regular clothes; inevitably I decided that with my hair and nails, it would be easier to pass as eccentric in this time period; a typical Goth, rather than somebody trying to blend in.  
I really just did not want to be here. My body seemed colder in the mornings now, dragging itself out of bed miserably to stitch up another mortal. Create another coffin. I cared for them, but they did not care for me.  
Suddenly, a door banged open further down the hall, and from around the corner spun a whirlwind of a human. With fuzzy vision, my grip on the keycard tightened involuntarily as the strange bellhop-ish figure paused in front of me. Dishevelled, and... what was that... hiding something behind their back?  
The hotel attendant purred some sort of professional greeting, and I snapped back to attend to the matter at hand, tossing my hair back down over my eyes. Assistance. They had asked if I wanted any. It took me mere fractions of time to fully analyze the newcomer, anxious about something beyond daily tasks, and—quite obviously—petrified by me. How delightful. It was an easy decision, to not simply let them run away.  
Forcing my voice, a virgin yet of its daily use, up out of my throat, I tried to smile kindly. “Why, if you’re offering, you can show me to my room. Apparently, this hotel is one of the largest in the city, and I’m afraid I’m extremely near-sighted.”  
The attendant seemed to blush, and their hand did something— behind their back again, how odd— before that professional grin was back in place.  
“Of course sir. Which room have you been given?”  
Forcing my eyes away from them, I glanced at the keycard, flipping it in my hands again. I was not even sure. “Uh...306,” I offered, glancing back up and letting my eyes wander their body from behind my perfectly protective curtain. Fairly slender, but not thin, this particular little human was tanned, as many of the people here seemed to be—I stood out like a ghost—and held themself with a positively hilarious ploy of confidence. I could see them crumbling inside with every second that they stared me down. Yet they did not look away, nor brush past. How intriguing.  
The newcomer’s shoulders fell slightly. “Right this way, sir.”  
They spun on their heel, and I allowed my bangs to part slightly to try and see what had been so bothering them. Their shirt was tucked in awkwardly tightly at the back... certainly, that was not the simple cause of such a dramatic display?  
“Do you not have bags?” They inquired, sounding suspicious.  
I chuckled and allowed my shoulder to drop, black backpack sliding off of it and into my waiting hand. I lifted my eyebrows, though they couldn’t see. “It just blends in.”  
As we walked, my gaze glanced over the walls of this hotel. Pretty basic, a bit posh for my tastes... too much bright green, not enough dark reds to contrast on the carpeting. Oh well.  
With vision as problematic as mine, trying to study fine details on the human now leading me was futile. Instead, I closed them, and... deep breath in...and I can see the world again... my senses, long refined in years of training in the dark without my glasses, drift in to focus in place of my eyes. The only way I may describe it is as a form of echolocation; the lines that humans see disappear. I can feel and smell pulses of ghostly green energy, small waves of colour bouncing back to my mind from out in the darkness.  
With my radar, I reached forwards, running my efforts slowly up the very fragile body in front of me. Their footsteps tapped gently, hand reaching forwards for the elevator button. I scanned their face as they glanced hesitantly over their shoulder. Returned to me was a flash of fear; a common result when people interacted with me. I fought a laugh and stepped into the metal box.  
With my eyes still closed, I could sense the workings of the elevator, and while it was impressive, it was not particularly mysterious. Every pulley I could feel grinding had a simple job; don’t break.  
The hotel employee tapped their feet nervously on the elevator floor, and I yanked myself out of my sensing and back into light. Thank goodness for my hair; the transition was quite blinding.  
I watched the human fiddle nervously for another moment before I cleared my throat again. “First day?”  
Eyes widening momentarily as they processed my words, they smiled shyly at the ground. “Can’t lose this job.”  
Ah, a fiscal crisis. Interesting.  
“You mentioned you were near-sighted... Do you not carry glasses, sir?” The employee inquired, shy eyes darting to meet mine for a moment.  
I shook my head and laughed. I hadn’t even thought of glasses in decades. “No. Unfortunately, I lost my only pair about... seventy years ago.”  
Unable to fight my grin, I was humoured to witness the mortal struggle for a moment, coughing and choking on their own surprise.  
“You seemed... younger,” they finally managed.  
I closed my eyes again. “Indeed.”

In a few more short moments, I had been escorted to a door that looked like every other door in the building. The attendant bowed politely as I stepped in, and made to bounce away, spouting professional gibberish about how to call another bellhop. Something about a button somewhere. Before they could leave, I tossed my bag into the room and leaned my shoulder on the doorframe, trying to make my intimidating stature less oppressive with the angle. I gestured very casually. “My thanks.”  
“It is what we are here for, sir,” came the short reply, the mortal’s eyes wide and shiny with water. Youthful.  
I could not help but giggle at how well-intentioned this little piece of talking meat was. “So,” I offered, keeping my tone light as I folded my arms. “What had you in such a tizzy earlier?”  
The employee’s face paled, and I fought another grin. Humans; such minimal self-control.  
“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, sir. I’m sure I can get it fixed shortly.”  
So, something was in fact bothering them.  
Something fixable.  
Well, pretty little mortal, allow me.  
“What was it?” I pressed, softening my voice further.  
I did not need my senses to see how clearly confused the human was. They tensed, bit their lip, and flashed their eyes around, debating what the best answer was.  
It was a quick process, and their sad little voice dropped into a helpless whisper as they reached behind their back, and pulled out what I recognized to be a bow tie.  
“I can’t tie this,” they whimpered. “It’s a necessary part of the uniform for this hotel, but I don’t know how. I tried for fifteen minutes straight this morning.”  
“That’s a lot of minutes,” I murmured sympathetically, unfolding my arms and taking a step forwards. “I can tie it for you.”  
I allowed them the space to think for a moment, before their face lit up. Happy human.  
“You... can?” They asked, voice shaking.  
“Ye-es,” I affirmed slowly, taking another small step forwards. The mortal’s features sharpened in my field of vision... wary. To ensure that the human would not flee, I delicately wrapped my taloned fingers around the dark blue fabric and slid the tie from their hand into mine. “But,” I considered, recalling how to perform the knot of a bow tie. I cringed inside. This was a strange request, even by my standards. “You will have to lie down on the bed.”  
The human paled further and I raised my hands innocently, letting a small section of hair drift away from my eyes. I pressed the bow tie against the inside of my palm with my thumb, watching them glance at it.  
“It sounds strange, I know, but...”  
Damnation. The term ‘mortician’ also had a tendency to drive people away, and something about this anxious little bubble of sunshine made me wonder if perhaps my three-day stay could get a little more entertaining. “...I have my reasons,” I finished.  
I waited pensively for their answer. No breaths were drawn in the silence.  
Then the employee found their voice again and stuttered a while, some nonsensical strain.  
“O-of course, sir, if you’re sure— I can also just go down to management and get it done there—“  
“I insist,” I hummed gently, tired of the back and forth.  
A thousand thoughts of all of the terrible things I could do to them must have passed that mortal’s mind before they swallowed once and pushed past me into the room, a strangely steely expression of resignation flashing across their features. I ran my hand through my own hair consolingly. At least they had not screamed, and I turned and shut the door quietly behind us. The darkness and coolness of the fresh room was a nice, morgue-like contrast to the halls of the hotel.  
The employee turned and our gazes connected for a brief moment, before they fell backwards, a rather melodramatic puff of air vanishing into the room from the quilts.  
I tried to look slightly less menacing, and chuckled quietly at the utterly determined expression as they stared—almost angrily—at the ceiling.  
Stepping up to the bed, I leaned over the human.  
It is always interesting to view them more closely. Skin that is alive and rushed with blood that is still moving feels different, and looks different than reaper flesh. It glows nicely.  
The mortal could not help but tilt their chin away from my hands as I wrapped the little piece of mockingly innocuous fabric around their throat. I fixated on the task at hand, and allowed my bangs to drift away from my face. The human stared. Humans usually did.  
Sliding my fingers gently around the base of their head, I lifted it with no effort to slide the bow tie further around. Wrapping one end around the centre, I pushed the other through the loop I had just made and tightened it. Fold another over—I let my muscle memory of wrapping them around deadwhites take control and finish the knot without my conscious effort. As I flattened out one curve of the bow, my fingers brushed lightly against their throat, and the human flinched away. They were warm.  
“Sorry,” I apologized. “It is hard to wear gloves with these nails.”  
That was the truth; keeping my hands warm was impossible, and typically, nobody alive ever felt them anyway. Considering I hadn’t really eaten in a few weeks, I was bound to be pretty chilly.  
The hilarious little mortal lied rigid and tense, grinding out a hesitant,  
“It’s fine.”  
“Almost done,” I assured them, trying to figure out why this particular loop hated me so much, and why they were not even.  
Then it was suddenly, magically, perfect, and I backed away without warning. My hair had shielded the human from the narrow beam of sunlight glaring in through the window, and they hissed as it assaulted their eyes.  
I could not help but laugh at the little spider.  
Attending to the backpack I had so ruthlessly abandoned on the floor, I swept it up and dropped it on one of the less-comfortable wooden chairs in the corner.  
“Thank you,” the employee murmured quietly, touching the dark tie gently as they sat up. Their gaze upon me was still quite wary.  
I loved it. This little game, this little power play. A little fun in the future never hurt anyone.  
“Of course,” I replied politely, spinning on my heel and tilting my head forwards in a small bow.  
I watched their delightfully organic face twist slightly in anxiety. “But why did I have to lay down?”  
I clicked my tongue and glanced at the floor. Ah. Yes.  
That.  
“I am an undertaker,” I elaborated slowly. The human shuddered, but tried to hide it, to their credit. A wolffish grin finally won control over my features. “It is the only way I know how to tie a bow tie, as I myself never wear one. I did not tell you before, as people seem to be unnecessarily... frightened of the prospect,” I continued, gauging the mortal’s reaction carefully.  
With nothing more than a quick shake of their head, they spoke up confidently. “Being treated as a corpse does tend to unnerve one. No offence,” the shrugged and slid off the bed, fear gone. Hmm. Pretty quick to adjust. “Thank you again.”  
I waved a hand dismissively, not allowing my surprise to show.  
“No problem. Now you said this little white button would call a helper?” I inquired, sidling back to the door and tapping the inoffensive little circle with my nail.  
“Yes,” the employee nodded happily. “Use it any time you require assistance. You can also pick up the phone over there—“ they pointed to a phone on the desk by the armchair. “—and dial 123 and you’ll get the service desk. 321 dials management. Thank you, and have a great day,” they prattled, slipping up beside me shyly and sliding their hand around the doorknob, pulling it open and sliding around the door, into the hallway and out of sight.  
Not so fast, slippery little morsel.  
Did I say morsel?  
I meant mortal.  
Edging the door open wider with the toe of my boot, I caught the cuff of their sleeve with my index finger, permitting myself to enjoy the terror that flashed across their face as I forced them to face me again.  
“And how do I ask for you specifically?” I murmured, taking a moment to sense what else might be happening along the periphery of the human’s body. Simple nervousness. “I don’t really like meeting new people over and over again. Wears me down,” I continued, aiming— not for help, as I was certain I would not require assistance— but rather, for a name, so that when I inevitably cornered this lost soul again, I had at least a name to call them.  
Their eyes widened and their body froze, staring up at me in fear. I lifted my eyebrows.  
“U-um, j-just ask service desk for L-London.” The quivering voice was barely a squeak above a whisper, a mouse running away into the darkness.  
Although, an unusual name.  
“London, hmm?” I giggled as I allowed the fabric of their white shirt to slide away from my hand. “That is where I’m from.”  
London pulled their hand close to their chest, but their vision brightened. “That explains the accent. You’ve come a long way— why are you in California?”  
I chuckled again. Sorry, small thing. You do not know enough yet. “That is a conversation for another day. I’m sure that you have work to do,” I sighed, withdrawing into the shadows of my room and leaving the employee bewildered in the hallway as I pressed the door closed between us.  
Leaning my forehead against the cold and dark wood, my eyelids fluttered closed. With an airy breath, I brought the blackened world into focus.  
London’s energies were still stationed outside of the door, staring back. Staring right at me. Pulling myself away, I flicked hair over my shoulder and forced my eyes open, nearly stumbling as I retreated further into the room. Landing on the edge of the bed finally, I caught my breath and dropped my face into my hands.  
There was just one teeny tiny thing wrong with entertaining little beams of light like London.  
They tend to die.


	2. Chapter 2

I spent that evening adjusting to the new atmosphere. The sheer—*noise*—of California was practically unbearable; how could such an atrocious amount of motors even be sustainable?  
I fell asleep near midnight, with nothing else to preoccupy my mind, and considered that I should locate some sustenance in the morning. 

The lobby of this particular hotel was wide, with a tall ceiling and many couches of varying shades of that same dark, dark emerald green scattered about. I had settled down into one to break my idiotically lengthy fast with a slice of banana bread; make no mistake, I had already had three other pieces before navigating my way back to the hotel.  
I crossed my legs, glancing down at my long limbs as I bit into the baked sweet. Was I getting thinner?  
It was still early, and I leaned my head over with mild curiosity when the front door spun open. To my surprise and delight, in popped little London; tanned and glowing and bright and cheerful, but they were... acting strange... hmm. With not enough time to figure out what was wrong on my own, I waved, hoping to buy myself some new information.  
And, look at that.  
Bandages.  
London obeyed civil standard and waved back to me, flashing the dressings that I am certain they meant to hide. Shoulders slouched, hands in pockets. Good try.  
Tilting my head, I beckoned them to me. Surely, this could not be about the bow tie.  
With stiffening posture, London sighed and turned to walk towards me, pausing a few feet away.  
“What is with the bandages?” I inquired, leaning back comfortably and popping the rest of the bread in my mouth.  
At the mortal’s hesitation, I quickly allowed my hand to snake forwards and snag their wrist.  
So very warm.  
London jerked back instinctively, but I tightened my grip and flashed them a look of warning.  
“Uh, I, uh...” the American stuttered.  
Running my fingers across theirs, I lifted my eyes. “Still cannot tie the tie, hmm?”  
Red-handed, London shook their head and pressed their lips together in a line.  
“I tried until I bled from the fabric last night,” they murmured under their breath. “And my fingers are too slippery with the bandages on, I can barely grip the damn thing. I couldn’t very well bloodstain it,” they hissed, growing frustrated the more they recalled their struggles.  
With a light giggle I folded my palm over theirs in a quick pat. “Come up to my room again and I will tie it for you.”  
“T-to your room?” London’s eyes widened.  
Wha—  
Yes, my room.  
Was this new information? Would that not be most convenient?  
What the bloody hell is with humans being so... irrational?  
“Well, doing it here would be slightly more auspicious, wouldn’t you agree?” I bartered, attempting to come off as reasonable rather than demanding.  
Despite my efforts, the mortal panicked further.  
“I’ll just get my manager to do it,” they offered quickly. I felt them tug against my grip. Impatient, and afraid. A bad combination. Come now, mortal, think this one through...  
I cinched my frigid fingers around London’s wrist and hardened my glare. “And how,” I began, tilting my head with a casual smile. “Will you explain how you had it tied yesterday? You can’t very well say you asked a customer to help you. And you cannot lie to your manager; they have security cameras to check if you act at all suspicious.” I clicked my tongue.  
Tendons and muscles tightened against my grip. “Are you threatening me?” London whimpered. Oh, my. Surely, they had wanted their voice to come out a little stronger than that... I laughed darkly once again, out of my control.  
“No,” I sobered up. “Merely remarking that you’re terrible at hiding things. No offence, but even someone as blind as myself could see how distressed you were yesterday.”  
The human’s face tinged red, a fiery blush; but resolutely, they pulled on their arm again. I could not hang onto them much longer without causing a scene.  
Very well.  
Suddenly releasing them, I pushed myself up off of the couch, towering over the employee once more.  
Still, they did not falter back, as I had expected; rather, they tolerated my overwhelming invasion of their space as I leaned forwards slightly to speak in their ear.  
“I’lll see you in a few minutes,” I murmured quietly, voice picking up its typical gravel.  
Feeling accomplished, and quite confident in my assumption, I slid around them and vanished into the elevator. 

Sitting in my room in the lone cushioned armchair—the style very modern, quite a strange curvature to adjust to for me— I pulled myself into the darkness again and waited to feel the elevator.  
At the grinding of the gears, I zeroed in on London, and was strangely overwhelmed by unexpected thoughts.  
... why was there shame?  
Were they ashamed of accepting my help? It did not seem to be that sort of shame. I could not place it.  
Regardless, it was quickly replaced by dread as they approached my door.  
Snapping my eyes open, I moved to meet them, pulling open the door just as they knocked, letting my hair fall in front of my eyes.  
“Good morning,” I smiled.  
“Good morning,” London replied automatically, sounding somewhat bitter. Then they rounded on me with a strangely sly grin. “Johnnie’s Café is nice, isn’t it?”  
My—already dead—heart stopped.  
And then it dropped, and nearly took my grin with it. “...How did you know... I went to the café?” I inquired carefully.  
London giggled. What. Do not giggle at me, mortal, it is I who does the giggling here.  
“I saw you with your little treat this morning, remember?” They added, sidling around me and stepping into the room.  
My eyes followed them as I let the door fall closed behind me with a soft click.  
“Ah yes,” I relaxed. “Fit for a king.” A starving reaper, at least.  
“If there is any café worthy of that title, it’s that one,” London shrugged amicably.  
Both of us took a short moment to revel in the awkwardness of small talk before I broke the silence, drifting towards my smaller companion and carefully holding out my hand. “Now then,” I offered placidly. “Shall we?”  
“If you don’t mind,” London sighed, seeming surprisingly at ease suddenly as the bow tie landed across my palm.  
“Not at all,” I murmured slowly, eyes tracing their figure as they fell back on the bed.  
As I stepped forwards, the Californian closed their eyes, which also caught me off-guard. Prey typically did not simply close their eyes when faced with a predator.  
My hunting skills must’ve been rusty.  
The process of tying the tie repeated itself, except this time I could watch their expressions freely despite my bangs dropping away.  
“There we go,” I murmured as I finished, but I did not draw back. London’s face remained unchanged.  
...did I kill them?  
Slightly concerned, and with a nervous grin, I tapped their temples lightly.  
That certainly garnered a reaction.  
“Hello, are you alive?” I laughed, as the human’s body tensed and jumped beneath me.  
London chuckled along and felt at the bow tie.  
“Sorry about that.”  
“No need,” I shrugged, shifting to the side to sit at the foot of the bed, allowing the mortal space to recover.  
As they sat forwards, my eyes drifted to the eggshell clock in the corner. “You don’t start work for another fifteen minutes,” I noted mildly.  
Concerned, London’s eyes locked on my face as I turned back. “How..?”  
I laughed. I suppose it was a bit of an apparent shot in the dark.  
“No one starts work at 7:45 AM.” At least, it wasn’t likely. “Tea?” I offered, swinging up to my feet and striding over to the little corner table, within which I had found the kettle and teacups the previous evening.  
“If you’re making some,” came the hesitant response, and I smiled.  
The human fell oddly silent, and I could sense their eyes on my back. I grinned secretly and let them watch, maintaining relaxed posture. My robes were perfect protection from prying eyes and whatever judgement they might contain. But, after setting the kettle, I still felt their stare; what could possibly have them so captivated?  
I stole a quick glance at them through my hair, analyzed their expression and eye-line, and turned back to face them. It was my clothing, obviously. That’s what was bothering them.  
“It’s grey today,” I explained, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back against the table.  
London blinked at me. “What?”  
“This,” I continued, reaching up and pulling at the collar of my first layer. “The undershirt. It’s grey today. Yesterday it was white. That’s what’s different.”  
Poor little London went quite pale again. “Are you... are you telepathic?” They whimpered, looking terrified.  
The moment of shame in the elevator combined with their expression clicked a quick thought into place, and I burst out laughing.  
Humans.  
“N-no,” I hiccuped our, barely holding myself up against the table as my chest rocked with laughter. “You just had your— thinking face on. While staring at me, so, I made an educated assumption,” I purred, placing my hand on my chest and watching with delight through my protective layer of bangs as they blushed.  
The human seemed relieved, leaning back on the bed slightly. “I should hope so.”  
A moment of silence passed, as I took a moment to register the admission as I walked to the washroom to fill the kettle.  
Then I burst out laughing, hardly managing to keep the spout in line as I struggled to shut it off.  
“And why do you say that, dear London?” I accused, smirking as I passed them.  
“No reason,” came the placid response, and I spun in my heel after setting the kettle down. Watching the mortal fight their own expression was quite amusing.  
I teased further. “You sure you don’t have... strange thoughts... that you wouldn’t want me to hear?” I grinned. I wondered how red I could get them before they fled the room.  
To my surprise, London glared right back at my smile and replied, “I’m sure I could say the same for you.”  
To mask my surprise, I turned back around to the kettle and fiddled with the button. “Oh?”  
At least I could control my stutter better than the human seemed to.  
“Mmhmm.”  
My, what sass.  
“After all, you do have a—night I say completely ravishing hotel employee—“  
I turned back to look as the mortal placed the back of their hand above their eyes and motioned to faint backwards dramatically. “—completely stranded in your hotel room, and in your bed as well, scandalously enough.”  
I giggled. I could not help it, this was too hilarious, along with the mortal acting so comedic.  
Stepping to the side, I dropped down back into my armchair, feeling rather sophisticated as my hair settled perfectly around my shoulders and split across my left eye.  
I fixed my gaze against them, pinning the human to the bed with a look.  
“Be careful what you suggest,” I murmured, meaning every word very seriously. “As I have been alone for much—“ *much* “—longer than you have, and I still have...” I checked the time. “At least eleven guaranteed minutes before people come looking for you. Probably more like an hour before the secretaries get concerned enough to call management,” I warned, witnessing with glee as London’s glowing face paled with each syllable.  
They chuckled uneasily, shiny eyes watching mine carefully. “Now that,” they said, “that was a threat.”  
“Yes,” I sighed darkly, lacing my fingers in front of my face and putting my mouth against them. “That was a threat.”  
Ready to spring from my position should they run, I—  
Oh, yep. They ran.  
With sudden fervour, obviously inspired by terror, London threw themself forwards off of the bed and sprinted for the door.  
I leapt after them. My heeled boots barely touched the floor before I made contact against the frail human, doing my best not to slam them straight through the wall. Catching myself against the eggshell paint, I let my arms cage the mortal as I pressed them—in what I hoped was a light enough manner not to crush ribs—into the wall so that they could not run from me. There was a quick struggle. The human performed quite well, actually, and I was rather impressed by the quick hit that was aimed at my face. Dodging it easily, I wrapped my fingers around the warm little arm and pinned it to the helpful wall at the elbow.  
Leaning my forehead against theirs, I forced their gaze to meet mine, petrified little orbs widening up at me. I could feel their panicked breaths across my throat.  
Hmmm.  
Haven’t felt that in ages.  
“Twenty-four years!” The human squeaked out, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Th-think you can beat that?”  
.. twenty-four years for what? That they had been alone?  
That’s it?  
I fought the urge to laugh, and was quickly distracted by another wiggle from the mortal, trying to escape. I leaned against them harder, feeling the heat rise in their body.  
“Mm?” I hummed, lowering my voice and emphasizing my breath to overwhelm them. “Try seven hundred and thirty-one.”  
All of the fight went out of their muscles for a moment, and I nearly dropped the human down the wall.  
“Y-you’re insane!” They accused, ripping their hand out of my grip.  
I cursed and grappled with the mortal again, settling for crossing my forearm across their throat and pinning them there. My other hand fighting to hold the flailing arms still and forcing my torso against them, I slowly added pressure on my arm until London’s quivering voice was cut off. A little strangulation does wonders to make humans quiet.  
With a dramatic pause, I tilted my head back and watched them fight for air with a mildly disinterested expression, waiting until London stopped fighting me, by choice or not.  
“Well,” I murmured slowly, relishing the little involuntary twitches of muscle as the mortal’s body was starved for oxygen. “Yes, I am. But that’s unrelated to what I just told you,” I chided, waving my finger in their face.  
Mistakenly, I had let go of their arms, believing I had quelled them.  
Humans are full of surprises.  
A fist, tightly clenched and fuelled by terror, smacked me in the sternum, and it caught me off guard. I faltered back for a moment and glared at the mortal, rasping out an offended laugh.  
I was punched again for my efforts. London was turning a little blue.  
I stepped back, raising my hands defensively as I took a single step away from the human. London slid down the wall a small ways and rubbed their throat.  
“Point taken,” I offered.  
“Better have,” was the growl I received. “I only have nine more minutes, and I don’t think I can give you an entire lecture on A) sexual assault and B) delusions about your age in that time frame.”  
“Sexual assault?” I scoffed. Assault, maybe. Sexual assault? “Between you and I there’s more clothes than a dry-cleaner and his next pay-check.”  
“Kind of dark,” London admonished me.  
Dark? Why yes, I’d say that’s an appropriate adjective. “Also technically incorrect,” they continued, lifting their eyebrows at me and placing their hands on their hips. “Do I actually have to give you this lecture? Because I will.”  
...Already so bold, dear London?  
My, my.  
Colour me impressed.  
I took a step forwards once more, leaving about four inches of space between myself and the American, as they flattened themself against the wall again.  
With a glare of warning, London held their hand up, palm out towards me.  
I quirked my eyebrow. Leaning forwards, I stepped up slowly until the front of my jacket just grazed their fingers.  
“I don’t have delusions about my age,” I murmured, looking down my nose at the body cowering against the wall in my shadow.  
“There’s literally no way that you’re seven hundred and thirty-one!” They hissed, eyes wide and fearful.  
I burst out laughing. “Did you just assume I’m a virgin?”  
Now, that certainly caught the mortal off—guard.  
“W-what? No, I—“  
“—implied that I said I was that old, when all I said was that I had been alone for that long,” I interrupted with a drawl. “If the two are the same number, you’re implying that I’ve simply never had anyone,” I chuckled. “How rude.”  
London stammered and stuttered, mind still clearly overwhelmed by my proximity.  
“I-I apologize, I never meant to—“  
That annoying professionalism.  
“Oh shush,” I gestured. “You’re fine.”  
London paused, took a deep breath—chest rising and falling with their lung capacity—and blinked up at me, hand still pushing me away. “Am I going to leave this room fine?”  
I pondered that thought for a moment.  
“I guess that depends,” I grinned after a moment, recognizing the sound of near-boiled water and deciding to have a little more fun.  
Taking another step forwards, I felt their palm push weakly against my abdomen until their hand was pressed between their chest and mine.  
“O-on?” The mortal stuttered, clearly fighting the urge to run.  
I let my hands drift up, leaning my forearms against the wall on either side of their head, and brought my mouth close to their ear. “One thing,” I whispered, buying myself time.  
“Which—is?” London hissed, tensing against my pressure. Losing patience.  
Then, the delightful click of the kettle sounded from across the room and I paused.  
“What kind of tea do you like?”  
“W-what?”  
I pushed myself off the wall and spun away, dancing back across the room to attend to the kettle. Surprisingly, I heard the human carefully settle back on the edge of the bed a few moments later, undoubtedly shaken.  
How fun.  
“What kind of tea do you like?” I repeated. “Because I’m fine with most opinions, but if you like something vile like ginger cranberry carrot tea or something, I might have to ki—“  
Speaking of self-control...  
*cough*  
Probably too forward, that one.  
“—kill you.”  
London’s warm and round voice. “If I ever say ginger, cranberry, and carrot as a single flavour, please do kill me. Mint if you’ve got it.”  
“Indeed I do,” I sung quietly.  
After I handed the human the cup, I settled back with my own drink in the armchair to watch them. Six minutes.  
“So,” London began suddenly, and I nearly choked on my drink. To cover, I lifted my eyebrows in invitation. “You know my name is London. But I don’t know yours...”  
I nodded in understanding. “Undertaker,” I revealed.  
The human raised their eyebrow sceptically. “Pretty direct.”  
I shrugged and took another drink. “Easy.”  
After another silence, the mortal launched conversation again.  
“What brings you to California?”  
Professional small-talker.  
Dragging my long hair all the way around to my left, I brushed a strand off of my coat and took another sip before answering, lowering my eyelids to cover my gaze a little. “Would you believe me if I told you it was a trip to come see family?”  
“No.” Well, that’s what I had assumed. “Because then you wouldn’t be paying for this hotel room.”  
“Maybe they offered to pay,” I shrugged and lifted my eyebrow challengingly.  
London countered well. “If they did it out of generosity, they would rather you have stayed with them in the first place. If they’re doing so out of malice, then you wouldn’t have the type of family connection worth a trip around the world. So...no. But I’ll pretend to believe you just do you feel like you actually won something today.”  
My goodness; if that little quirky tone wasn’t just begging for a shot of adrenaline, I didn’t know what was.  
“Y’know, m’dear,” I purred, clicking the toe of my boot against the floor a few times for the sake of creepiness. “I’m pretty sure I won an earlier fight we had, too.”  
London held up their hand. “Except I punched you. Twice. And it got you off. So I’d have to disagree.”  
With that, they lifted their teacup, and sipped at it rather arrogantly.  
I giggled. “It takes more than a little physical violence to get me off.”  
To my delight, London’s cheery complexion reddened and they coughed against tea that had hit the back of their throat wrong.  
After choking a bit more and hitting their own chest, all while I observed quietly from over the rim of my teacup, London glared at me.  
“I meant away from me!”  
With a very final clink, I set my mug down on the table beside me, next to the kettle. “I know what you meant,” I argued half-heartedly, rolling my eyes.  
The employee looked at me, looked at the clock, sighed, and tossed the tea down like a shot of vodka. It was a rather intimidating gesture. I followed their eye-line to the eternally ticking clock.  
That clock meant more than they knew, I realized, and a strange weight settled on my shoulders.  
Trying to ignore the feeling, I titled my head back to London and tapped my teeth habitually with my nails. “Much can happen in a hundred and twenty seconds, love,” I crooned dangerously.  
Pushing themself up to standing, London brushed off their white dress shirt and flashed me a polite smile. “Yes it can. Therefore, I must get to work. Thank you for your kind hospitality, uh, Undertaker.”  
Chuckling, I rose slowly as well. “Never a problem. Please, allow me to show you out.”  
“No tha- okay..”  
The human tried to refuse, but I was already drifting over to the door, pulling it open with a dark smile. London’s tiny little grin flashed uncomfortably up at me as they sidled out of the door anxiously.  
“See you tomorrow,” I murmured, and quickly shut the door behind the employee.  
Hm.  
And once again, everything felt empty.


	3. Chapter 3

I slept through the day, closing the curtains and stripping down to be covered only by a thin sheet; I had to escape the unbreatheable suffocation of California. The exhaust of the vehicles, the warmth of the constant sun, all combined with my position on a higher floor overheated my hotel room and forced me to hide away like a vampire. Near the evening, I opened the window and accepted the rather minor breeze that swept through the room as the sky purpled. I took a deep breath and coughed. London did not taste like this.  
The, uh, place.  
Not London the person.  
I hadn’t quite figured out what London the person tasted like yet.  
I sighed and stepped back from the window, deciding to punish myself with a cold shower in order to feel less miserable and hopefully wash the confusion from my brain.  
Standing in the cold water was nice—it was a rare treat, to feel so warm, and yet, California had simply taken it too far. England was never this damn hot. I did notice that it cooled off quite quickly without the sun... must be autumn, for the temperatures to change so radically.  
Stepping out of the frigid water about ten minutes later, I towelled off and wrung out my hair. It took another ten minutes just to brush the long silver strands apart from each other. Pulling on a soft white shirt and black pants, I sighed again and shook my head at myself.  
As darkness encroached upon the city further, I glanced out the window again. Curious about what the world outside looked like, I leaned back in my armchair and closed my eyes, settling down comfortably and folding my hands on my abdomen.  
Sink in. Feel the world.  
My senses swept down the building, and I felt my eyelashes twitch against my cheeks as I let myself be guided along through the blackness.  
Suddenly, a familiar pulse of orange rushed through my mind. What was London doing out there?  
I followed the mortal, or tried to, although fracking specific moments required extreme concentration. They were moving to the bus stop. Just heading home after a day of work.  
I smiled to myself and brought myself back up and into the real world, flicking the lamp next to me on. Electricity was much more convenient than my own gas lamps, but there was always that annoying hum that I could not get over. Call me old-fashioned. I just had a bad feeling about it.  
With nothing else to entertain myself for the evening until true night fell, I moved to my bed and continued to brush out my hair. I wanted it to air dry, it was smoother than when I blow dried it, and with the residual heat of the day the last thing I wanted was to be blasted with more hot air.  
I let my mind wander the hotel. In a few hours, this place would be rubble and fire. How messy. I studied each life form resting, watching TV, showering. Not to be creepy; rather, to ensure that at least one person had appreciated each of them, one last time.  
Half-heartedly, after a few hours of scanning every mortal, I sent a pulse out in search of a wave of comforting orange.  
To my absolute surprise, a second before I disconnected, a warm amber was reflected back to me, but in muted tones. From the bus stop.  
I snapped my eyes open and glared at the clock. 1:46 in the morning. What the hell? What on bloody earth was London still doing out there??  
Before I even realized what I was doing, I folded my pants around my ankles and slid into my boots, tightening clasps as I reached for my coat and retrieved my scarf. I began to shut the window when a brilliant thought struck me.  
The elevator would be too slow. If something bad had happened, which is what I feared, every second mattered. This mortal was not meant to die yet.  
Trusting that no one would see, based on my senses, I folded my legs up and sat on the sill, ghostly reflection staring back at me as I glanced at the glass pane before me. I looked at the ground. My vision was so poor I could hardly make out where the hotel ended and the earth began; everything here was vaguely cement-coloured. Completely unhelpful.  
Taking a breath to steady myself, I shook my head. I was too old for this. Five stories was a distance I had not bothered to fall in quite some time, as most buildings in London are only two or three. It wouldn’t kill me, sure, but I also didn’t want to somehow knock myself unconscious for a few hours.  
Before I could doubt myself further, I pressed my eyes shut and slid out of the window.  
My hair and scarf were close to follow as I flew freely through the air. It was actually quite lovely; somewhat self-indulgently, I felt like an angel.  
Angel of Death, is that not what mortals called it?  
The fall was timeless, until suddenly I hit the ground. It was closer than I had in fact thought. While this meant that I did not gain much momentum, I landed wrong and was forced into an awkward roll across my shoulder, absorbing the impact into my side.  
I laid on my back for a moment as my black coat flipped over me, staring up at the black sky. Actually, vaguely brown, from all the excessive lights. No matter where I looked, buildings and people were illuminated in neon orange light from street lamps and store signs rather than the blue tint of a natural night.  
Sitting up in a very zombie-like way, I pushed hair out of my face and leapt to my feet, quickly but carefully picking my way silently across the pavement. A short distance away was a bench with...  
Oh dear.  
A body draped across it.  
My pace quickened, and I glanced around to check no other mortals could see me before just sprinting, heels barely touching the pavement until I was crouching next to London. Leaning down closely, I fumbled unsurely for a moment. How to tell if someone is not dead or not ...?  
I had forgotten which bodily functions humans truly needed or not.  
I took a deep breath.  
Oh, that’s one, isn’t it?  
Lifting my hand, I held it next to London’s slightly open mouth and felt a change in airflow. That’s good...  
Carefully sliding my hands under the sunny mortal’s chin, I felt at their throat for a pulse.  
The tiny heartbeat met the pad of my thumb and I sighed in relief. Then I panicked. What would the mortal think?  
I could wake them up...  
I brushed off my coat and stood quickly, glancing around guiltily.  
This was not like me, to lose my composure so easily.  
Collect yourself, man!  
I shook my head, straightened out my hair, and rewrapped my scarf around my neck, pondering what to do with the sleeping little human.  
Clearly, they did not intend to fall asleep here.  
I nudged their back with the toe of my boot.  
“London? London..?”  
The mortal twitched a little and scowled, mumbling something incoherent. I was about to reach down again when London gasped aloud and sat bolt upright, eyes wide and confused. Before I could catch them, they tipped backwards again, nearly fainting as they fell off the bench.  
“London?” I called softly, kneeling down and reaching out, and the human rolled back over, blinking up at me in a daze. I gripped their shoulder carefully to make them stop and think for a moment.  
“Are you alright?” I asked, trying to force the mortal to focus on me. “What are you still doing here?”  
The blessed human had the apparent nerve to scowl at me, as though I were completely out of place asking such a ridiculous question. “What do you mean?” The human rubbed at their eyes sleepily. How adorable. “I’m going home. It’s the end of my shift. I’m waiting for the bus.”  
I sighed. “London, it’s two o’clock in the morning.”  
That certainly forced some clarity into those jaded eyes. London’s eyes snapped to their wrist, which jolted awkwardly, muscles cramped from being slept on.  
“Aw shit,” they cursed, glancing at their watch. Then they turned their clever gaze against me. “Then why the hell are you out here?”  
Once again in a sudden emergency of masking my surprise and embarrassment, I coughed into my sleeve once as I quickly thought up a lie. Why was I out here? I certainly hadn’t fallen from a window to come see you, mortal.  
“I woke up to use the washroom and glanced out of my window. It looks directly down at this bus stop, and I thought I recognized you. I came out to se if you were alright.”  
*pleeeease* don’t remember that I can’t see that far, I prayed.  
A few moments later, a still-dazed London nodded in acceptance and mumbled, “well, thanks.”  
“No problem,” I assured, rising to my feet before bending down and holding out my hand.  
Slowly, London managed to lift their hand and drop it into mine as they also wavered to standing. I flinched from how frigid their skin was— now that was not right.  
London pulled away, suddenly wide-eyed and nervous.  
“Your hands are colder than mine!” I yelped, barely able to contain my surprise. “That’s almost impossible!” I knew corpses that were warmer than me!  
“They must have slid out of my pockets,” London mumbled, voice still scratchy from sleep. They pulled their hands out from between mine and stepped away hurriedly as the sound of the incoming bus reached us. “I should get going,” they exclaimed. “The next bus will be here any second.”  
The car hissed open behind me, and without turning to look at it, I bowed slightly towards London.  
“Here,” I offered, taking long steps back towards the opening. “I’ll ride with you.”  
The complacent mortal joined me quickly, obviously more frightened by the thought of missing the shuttle rather than me.  
“You’re lucky I carry two passes,” London hissed somewhat smugly, holding out a little plastic ticket jus as the coachman—or whatever they were called in this timeline— drifted through to check for them.  
“Yes,” I agreed, sneaking it from their freezing fingers to mine. “And why do you do this?”  
“In case I lose one or get robbed for one,” they muttered, rubbing the side of their face that still had marks from the bench. “I live an hour away by foot, and I can afford a second pass more than the fee for not carrying.”  
After the coachman wandered away into the next car, I tried to hand London’s second pass back. They refused.  
“Keep it. You’ll need it for the ride back, dodo.”  
I put my hand against my chest. The sass!  
“I’m not the dodo that fell asleep for six hours after a twelve hour shift,” I replied bitterly.  
London glared up at me. Sorry, mortal. You’re not very threatening from that far down.  
“Y’know,” they hissed.  
“Mm?” I challenged, lifting my eyebrows at them.  
“Just...” London’s tired defences crumbled. “Shh!”  
I laughed and turned away to analyze the rest of the bus. A surprising amount of night owls, mostly drunks, occupied the seats around us haphazardly, but as it cleared out I led London to a small corner with two open.  
“You didn’t need to ride with me,” London murmured at one point, head nearly on my shoulder for how tired they were.  
“I wanted to,” I murmured in reply, turning my mouth to them to speak quietly. “For people like that,” I added, glancing pointedly at a twitching disaster of a human being sitting in the opposite corner, staring at the floor and mumbling wildly to himself.  
“I can take care of myself; most of those people aren’t evil masterminds,” London argued, as though I were completely aware of the nature of humankind.  
“No,” I agreed slowly. “Most of those people are opportunists.”  
“Your point?” The little mortal argued, glaring up at me.  
I narrowed my eyes at them in a menacing scowl. Slipping my hand around their back, I roughly bunched my fist into their coat at their hip and dragged them up against me. London’s eyes gained a sudden clarity, with the help of a heavy dose of fear, and they moved to push me away.  
“You are small, thin, young, and easy to take advantage of,” I elaborated, leaning forwards until some of my hair grazed the sides of the human’s cheeks. “You wear opportunity like a pearl necklace.”  
And pearl looks quite ravishing on you, dear London.  
I ran my tongue over my teeth subconsciously.  
What the hell am I doing?  
I jerked back, and the human shivered.  
Good, yes. I did that entirely on purpose, yes. Fear me, mortal. All that.  
“Point taken,” they murmured shyly.  
“Excellent,” I replied, trying not to let my voice shake as I leaned back and lifted my arms behind my head.  
Silence settled between us as the bus rattled along. London’s head dipped back and forth as they fought sleep, and I hardly noticed I was so distracted by my own thoughts; until something suddenly heavy and warm landed on my thigh. Startled, I glanced down and covered my mouth with my hand.  
Fast asleep. Across my lap.  
I choked on more laughter. I didn’t know which station London needed; oh well. At least this time, if they slept on a bus until 8 AM, I would be here. 

Some time later, London bolted upright and dragged me off the bus. Stumbling into the refreshingly cold air, I tried to conceal more laughter by adjusting my scarf.  
“Thank you. Where are we?” I inquired, glancing around at the suddenly suburban surroundings.  
“Cedarwood,” London answered, sounding fairly chipper. “Six blocks from my apartment.”  
Without waiting for a reply, they turned and started walking into the night. After a brief pause, I followed.  
“Pay attention to the roads, if you’re going back. I mean, you’re welcome to crash at mine, but it would be counterintuitive to pay for a high-end hotel room and not use it.” Their face fell. “Your room is better than my apartment.”  
I resisted the urge to pat their shoulder consolingly.  
Life will get better, London.  
Or... well.  
I suppose it actually won’t, for you.  
Overwhelmed by an encroaching sadness, I swallowed it down. “I’m certain your place is lovely, but as to not impose, I will indeed return to the hotel.”  
We continued to stroll through the dark, my ears buzzing with the distant sound of constant engines and horns. Did the city ever sleep?  
Finally, London turned up a small walkway, leading me up to a building that looked like every other building on the block.  
“Smells like smoke,” I noted, for lack of anything more positive to say about it.  
“And broken dreams,” London added with a rather forlorn grin. “But the basement suite is cheap.”  
I nodded. At least they were realistic about it.  
Glancing sideways, I analyzed the mortal’s features, and noticed a new line.  
Curiously, I let my hands fall around their throat, gently brushing my thumb across the divot. The human tensed but tolerated the touch.  
“What’s this line from?” I asked.  
Heat rose in London’s cheeks and they stuttered for a moment, before seeming to give up and murmur; “I... took a nap. The line is probably from the seam of your pants.”  
Revelling in the sheer amount of shame humans could produce, I burst out laughing, all of the amusement from back on the bus that I could not express finally escaping my control.  
London laughed along and produced a small and innocuous key from somewhere in their pockets, pulling open the first door of the building. I watched their muscles relax happily at the sensation of the warm air.  
London turned back to glance at me as I quieted my giggles, observing them from behind a part in my hair.  
“Would you like to warm up for a moment?” London asked politely, gesturing inside.  
Still fighting laughter, I pulled my shoulders up and hid my stupid snickering face in my scarf. “I’ll be fine thanks,” I replied after a moment.  
“Don’t be silly,” London snapped. “Come in. Just for a brief moment. Your nose is turning red.”  
Well, that was a lie.  
But also, notably, not the reaction I expected.  
Befuddled, I shook my head firmly and buried my apparently traitorous nose in my soft scarf as well. Before I could react, the mortal’s hand wrapped itself around said scarf and dragged me forwards, yanking me off balance and forcing me in through the door after them. Unprepared, I made a weird noise of shock and tripped disgracefully over the carpet border.  
Must not crush the human.  
As I stumbled up against London’s inconveniently organic body, I braced my hands against the wall as to not completely flatten the mortal. London was shoved unceremoniously to the same wall, but remained otherwise unharmed.  
And now wasn’t this just cozy?  
I grinned down at London as they blinked up at me in shy regret. Their fingers twitched nervously against the wall when I didn’t move.  
“That actually worked out rather well,” I purred.  
And, you did it to yourself, silly human.  
Leaning my weight on my arms, I tightened the distance between myself and London, just for the sake of watching them squirm a little.  
Their eyes clearly flickered to my mouth and I grinned. Even someone so isolated as myself knew what that meant.  
“Did it now?” They growled, trying and failing to slide away from me as I casually placed my hand in their path. The human’s eyes locked on the obstacle with hatred. “Rude.”  
“Convenient,” I shrugged and tilted my head, loving the way that London had to lift their chin to make eye contact with me. “For one of us, anyway.”  
“And only one!” London snapped, shouldering past my hand and moving to open the second door.  
Not yet, dammit. So close.  
With precise aim, I cuffed their hot little wrist with my icy hand and pulled them back. Twisting their arm to force them to spin, I stepped forward and pressed the mortal against the opposite wall, hand holding theirs and my other palm resting against their hip to pin them very lightly.  
I let my eyes wander their petrified face for a moment before I spoke, voice quiet and searching. “Now we both know that’s not quite true, don’t we?”  
“At least this time you’re not choking me,” London snarled, not even missing a beat. Although I noticed, the resistance against my grip was exceptionally minimal.  
“That can be arranged,” I offered with a smirk, lifting my hand and teasingly withholding any real contact with the mortal’s throat. Despite the vague threat, London tilted their chin away subconsciously. I grinned wider.  
Then they moved, obviously trying to escape, and I simply spun them again. My hair fanned out around us before draping down as I dipped the human over my arm. Holding them awkwardly over the floor with ease, I bent at the waist so that I was dangerously close.  
“Well, is this better? I didn’t take you for a fan of such interesting positions,” I chuckled quietly.  
I recognized the movements of London’s muscles as they made to punch me, and I shifted my grip to make the action more difficult. The fist bounced off my shoulder harmlessly.  
Clicking my tongue in teasing admonishment, I leaned myself lower, bringing my mouth so close to the mortal’s that I could feel their clipped breaths across my lips as they curled in on themself, clutching their hands to their chest and squeaking in terror.  
I paused, enjoying the proximity.  
So. So. Tempting.  
The time I spent simply holding the human under me, feeling their warmth, their fear, their attraction, and their breath, was not enough. But finally, I straightened, and dropped my hands to theirs.  
“Thanks for the dance,” I chuckled, and my bangs slid in front of my eyes once more.  
“Thanks for uh, walking me home,” London stammered, glancing down shyly.  
“Of course,” I hummed, bending slightly and lifting their fingers to my lips carefully. At least they were no longer so cold.  
The sensation of human flesh against my mouth was foreign, and the tease of delicate skin was almost enough to tempt me again.  
London just stared at me.  
Clicking my tongue again, I stepped away and pushed the door open behind me. “Now I should get going,” I chirped, spinning quite quickly and stoically escaping the scene with whatever dignity I felt I still had.  
I heard a weak but hopeful voice behind me as I stepped out into the cold.  
“S-see you tomorrow!”  
I halted in my tracks, scarf jerking forwards in opposition.  
“Yes,” I called back, and continued to walk off into the dark.


	4. Chapter 4

London was late the next day.  
Or rather, less early, and I assumed that it was due to their late night up. Regardless, they looked well-presented, with neatly ironed clothes and hair pushed back from their face. As they entered my room, looking rather gloomy, they held out the bow tie, which I accepted. The human fell backwards onto the bed as I chuckled, moving towards them and secretly appreciating how their pressed white shirt rested against their abdomen.  
I could not help but notice London staring at my eyes quite pointedly this time, as I tied the bow tie...  
I was aware of their effects. Somehow, my irises even managed to entrance other reapers. Humans were even easier to allure; the unnatural colour was, well, eye-catching. I watched the mortal’s expression change subtly in my periphery as my fingers worked on the loops of fabric at their throat.  
After a few moments of analysis, I chuckled and met their gaze. “Like what you see, m’dear?” I asked, adjourning my efforts on the bow tie.  
London’s quiet response was not precisely the reaction I had expected. “It’s a shame you keep so hidden.”  
I shrugged. Why did I keep so much of myself covered? “It’s... easier.”  
“Than being pretty?”  
Shaking my head, I grinned shyly at the human’s words. At least one of us had enough guts to be honest.  
Something in London’s demeanour shifted, something minute enough that I did not register it consciously. Rather, when they spoke, I was suddenly aware of the pre-existing change.  
“Wait, look at me again,” they requested, suspicion in their voice.  
Oops.  
This was usually where my humanity was brought into question.  
“I am technically still looking at you,” I offered weakly, fixing my gaze on their throat.  
“Fine, be difficult,” London replied with sudden ferocity. Before I could react, the human had jammed a warm and surprisingly determined hand in my hair and wrapped their other around my jaw. Unprepared for the assault, I was easily forced into glancing down at them again, as they forced my head up to study my eyes. My reflexes nearly had me snap the mortal. I started to breathe. The action calmed nervousness and, in the silence, reinforced the idea that I was human.  
Studying the mortal’s sparkling eyes as they analyzed me from so, so close, I was forced to watch and wait. There was a strange vulnerability here, an odd submissiveness that immediately clouded my typical response, and I wasn’t sure why.  
London blinked up at me. “You... have double-ringed irises,” they murmured shyly at me, staring at my eyes rather than into them.  
“Yes,” I whispered back after a moment of hesitation. There was no point in lying, the mortal could very clearly see them, although I did have to fight to resist the urge to close my eyes self-consciously.  
“Why?” London inquired.  
“Not entirely sure myself,” I offered, which was true.  
The mortal’s grip on me did not loosen, and I began to twitch nervously, paranoid that I had said something wrong. What could I do? Should I attack? Pull away? Say something else?  
London’s face refused to change, which was equally terrifying. No expression to analyze.  
I caught the smirk just in time to have my world disoriented as London forced me to face right with sudden violence. I gasped, I actually gasped; stupid human reactions... mortals bring out my own human nature.  
“Quite the decorations,” they murmured, and I realized that they were looking at my ear.  
As they said this, the fingers disappeared from my hair. Suddenly abandoned, I felt rather foolish, to be reduced to a shaking and gasping mess by such a basic touch.  
I felt myself blush. God damn it.  
I coughed into my sleeve.  
“Yes,” I replied after a moment, returning to my task of tying the tie so as not to stutter any more. It was a social shield. I did not have to look at London. “I’ve gotten them all done over many years.”  
“Why do you hide so much?” The mortal asked, almost sounding sad.  
I giggled. “So that people like you have mysteries to keep you around,” I offered, pulling the bow tight and stepping away.  
London sat forwards and I turned away, to grab my hairbrush from my backpack.  
“You have to teach me,” came the human’s voice.  
“No I don’t,” I replied coolly.  
“But then what will I do when you leave?”  
Oh, god. A spear through my heart.  
I pressed my hand against my eyes to keep myself from weeping.  
“How long are you here for, anyway?” London added.  
I glanced back at the mortal, trying to hide my guilt and decide what the best response was. Retrieving the targeted hairbrush, I slid into the armchair and sighed. “Until my job here is completed,” I murmured sadly, staring at my little mortal.  
London tapped on their mouth, looking thoughtful. “So you’re here on business, then.”  
Your business is my business, London. Sorry dear.  
I shrugged. “Sure, why not.”  
Engaging my hair with the brush, I fought my ow silver and forced it through, strand by strand. Weekly chore.  
London watched me for a moment.  
“Your hair is like spiderweb thread,” they offered suddenly, and I was confused. Spiderweb thread? What my morgue was covered with? That in itself was an accurate comparison. My hair got everywhere.  
“What, the strongest bloody material on earth?” I demanded, ripping the brush through a knot to emphasize my point.  
“Very fine, very shiny. Very soft.”  
Soft?  
I laughed and glared at the mortal. “When did you feel my hair without my knowledge?”  
Leaning back on the bed dramatically, London rolled their eyes. “Only every time you lean over me. It’s almost like it’s five feet long, or something.”  
I grinned. “Five feet, three inches.”  
Almost angrily, the human opened their mouth in surprise. “How bloody tall are you?!”  
“6’3”,” I replied, grinning wider as the mortal scowled. “So, fairly.”  
I was on the taller side of the population. Made people easy to scare.  
London rubbed their temples. “Jeez. Yeah. Very.”  
What was that saying they used in this time period?  
“Mind blown?”  
“Mind equals blown,” London agreed, glancing at the clock. “Five minutes.”  
Never enough time. Not even when you’re immortal.  
I abandoned the hairbrush. Steepling my fingers in front of my mouth, I locked my eyes on the human again; small and fragile on the edge of my bed.  
“Much can happen in three hundred seconds,” I offered, lowering my voice.  
London crosses their arms defiantly. “I’m not going to panic again. Nice try.”  
I clicked my tongue. “Such a shame. You’re fun when you’re scared.”  
“Implying that I’m boring otherwise?” London asked, lifting an eyebrow.  
I could not help but giggle at the pure innocence, radiating from this tiny little human as they challenged me.  
“Not at all,” I shrugged. “Entertaining in other ways.”  
“That’s not at all reassuring, coming from you.”  
I snickered and nodded amicably. “Not much is. I am an undertaker, after all.”  
“And I’m just a lowly hotel employee,” London replied, shaking their head as they slid off of the bed and moved for the door. “Who must now get to work.”  
It took me until the mortal had their hand on the doorknob to force my voice to work.  
“London.”  
Paralyzed, the human slowly turned back to face me. “...yes?”  
I sighed. I could not believe I was even considering this. “Do you have any family here?”  
The mortal frowned, confused, and their fingers dropped from the door slowly. “Uh...not...really... why do you ask?” They accused, suddenly suspicious.  
I stayed silent and watched them expectantly. “...My parents are in Greenland. They kind of just... up and left...”  
Excellent.  
“So what’s holding you here?” I murmured. Please, let it be nothing.  
“Lack of money, I guess,” London shrugged.  
Perfect.  
“This is where circumstance took me,” they continued. “Until I can afford some other lifestyle, this is how I will live. I’ll get promoted through this hotel maybe, and go from there...” their rich voice weakened as they spoke. “Why do you ask?”  
Tch.  
“You will see,” I sighed again and unfolded myself from the chair. “Tomorrow.”  
London paled as I approached. “T-tomorrow?”  
Standing deathly still and analyzing from across the room, I hummed. “See? You’re fun when you’re scared. I shall see you out,” I added, stepping past the mortal and pulling the door open.  
London, uncomfortable, sidled out in their typical unnerved fashion before waving hesitantly.  
I smiled and shut the door.  
As soon as the latch was pressed closed, I shut my eyes and leaned my head against the cool door. The room was safe, dark and silent, other than the oppressive and chaotic noise of the city.  
Could I take London with me? Was it possible?  
I had to clean up this mess. The hotel would burn down tomorrow. I had to make my decision soon.  
I deliberated.  
Perhaps, London could come with me, and live as my assistant. Would they even want to? Or would they die? Mortals had a strange affinity to do anything to avoid death; simultaneously, I was death and also the only alternative.  
I slammed the side of my hand against the door. What if I found their body in the flames and they were half blown apart? I could save any mortal from nearly any wound, but would they want to be made of stitches? Could London handle being tossed through time, or would they have a mental breakdown?  
I considered further. If I took London back to, well, London, they would have to give up their entire lifestyle. Let’s face it, they would depend entirely on me, like a newborn, relearning how to live. That was the best-case scenario. Would they even want that? Or would they be bitter? I highly doubted these few short interactions with the human provided them with a sensation even remotely like love.  
Worst-case scenario, their mind snapped, and I had to kill them anyway, or leave them to be killed by alienists with icepicks.  
I shuddered.  
No.  
I could not take this mortal with me.  
It was a selfish endeavour, regardless of what type of life they would be leaving behind.  
And that was that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who read my chapters regularly as updates occur, I am so sorry. How do you stand the errors.  
> Like, “y’all” was supposed to be “tall”? How do you do it. I see them and they make me want to die. I fixed a few in the last chapter it was so bad >.< anyway. Enjoy, here’s the chapter we’ve all been waiting for lol, probably one of Undertaker’s favourite memories...

London nearly pushed me over as they stormed into the room, looking rather sour. I fought a laugh and watched them as they stalked to the bed, bowtie in hand.  
Instead of falling backwards as per usual, the human buried their face in the covers, leaving their hips up in the air rather... suggestively.  
I coughed awkwardly at the sight and kicked the door shut quickly. Humans.  
“Um? That’s not—uh, not your typical position,” I stuttered, fighting laughter.  
I barely heard he human’s angry little whisper. “I can’t get the zipper up.”  
I approached curiously. What zipper?  
“What—oh. Oh.”  
Oh.  
I could not contain my laughter and fell to the floor, pulling myself to the edge of the bed and giggling madly while London screamed something at me in rage.  
My hair obscured my vision as I pulled myself together, still snickering. “F-fine, I’ll help you,” I chuckled, straightening up somewhat haphazardly.  
I carefully tucked my fingers into the waistband of the mortal’s outfit, tugging loose the section of shirt that had caught in the teeth. Considering the ridiculousness, I laughed again.  
“There you are,” I snickered, pulling the zipper up and tucking the white shirt back in.  
“Thanks,” London offered, turning over and shifting a bit before handing me the tie.  
“You seem very... antagonized today,” I prodded gently, still grinning as London laid back on the bed with a scowl.  
Glaring up at me as I twisted the fabric about their throat, they hissed out: “Not to be dramatic, but I fell asleep on my floor and then came to work. I’ve eaten nothing, I’m unshowered, and the zipper on my pants got stuck and I had to sneak all the way up here since I couldn’t find any other employees I’d be willing to ask for this!” They finished in a grand crescendo, making me chuckle as they listed off their problems on their fingers.  
“I can only fix one of those, m’dear, and I already have. Unfortunately, you only have...well, actually, you have a solid fifteen minutes,” I realized, allotting the time in my head for a quick shower.  
London raised their eyebrow.  
God damn it.  
They were going to make me say it.  
“I mean...” I began hesitantly. “This room... has a shower in it...”  
London’s other eyebrow shot up in surprise. “Uh...” They tensed beneath me.  
Damn it. “Nonononono, listen,” —do not panic mortal, I don’t just want you naked in my room, I promise— “I mean, you don’t have to obviously, I just, if you—if you wanted to- it— then— two things— but like, I don’t, I wouldn’t j—“  
Expecting a slap across the face, I jolted when London covered my mouth with the warmth of their hand. “Shh! I get the message!”  
Thank. God.  
Well. Now that that was cleared up...  
I grinned as London slid their palm away.  
“You know, my dear, I wouldn’t join you ....  
un~less , of course, you-”  
I said slowly, before getting a fist to the chest.  
I coughed and rolled away from the human.  
“Bring me food as an apology for what you just implied,” came the command from above as I slumped to the floor.  
London waltzed happily away into the washroom, leaving me to die on the carpet.  
“Okay...”  
In the span of fifteen minutes, London, you expect me to be able to retrieve you sustenance?  
It’s almost like you think I’m superhuman or something.  
Sigh. 

Finally, the door clicked open. Steam followed the human into the hotel room. Fully dressed, London sighed and shook their head, tossing the towel to the floor and glancing at the blueberry muffin on the bedside table.  
I arched an eyebrow at the towel. “That’s not where that belongs.”  
London blinked at me in sudden mock and dramatic surprise, placing their hands over their heart. “I can see your torso outline? What is this?” They gasped, eyes pointedly glancing at my abdomen. Ah, yes. My robes. I had taken them off.  
I giggled at the show and crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously, pulling hair over my shoulders to protect myself. “Must be a miracle,” I murmured.  
“Well, thanks for the muffin, and I’ll pick up the towel in... four minutes,” they said, happily pulling apart the dough of the treat and popping in in their mouth.  
I waited for my chance, teeth grazing my own lip as I readied my tease. “Did you manage to do your own pants up this time?”  
London’s eyes narrowed at me angrily. “Yes, thank you.”  
My, the aggression! I held up my hands placidly. “I was just wondering... making sure you didn’t need a gentleman like myself to come feel about your hips. No need to be so hostile,” I offered.  
“I feel like there is,” is the growl I received. “But I’ll maintain professionalism,” London offered, suddenly hooding their gaze and holding up the bow tie.  
I couldn’t contain my amusement, and laughter ripped through me. “Professionalism?” I scoffed, gesturing to the washroom and flicking my hair over my shoulder. “You just had a shower in a gentleman’s hotel room, and are now laying on his bed, holding out a tie,” I murmured cheekily, fingers coming to cover my lips as I snickered. Then I pushed myself to standing, approaching slowly and allowing the heavy silence to encroach for a moment. London waited, patient and apprehensive, glaring at me suspiciously from the corner of their eye.  
I snickered again, pushing hair back behind my ear and carefully letting my fingertips drift over the bowtie before pulling it fully into my grip. It laid flat across both my palms. Glancing up from it to lock gazes mischievously with London, I grinned and lowered my voice. “And goodness knows what anyone would think of that.”  
London’s eyes nearly jaded over. Their throat tightened as they swallowed in fear, fighting to find words. Their voice was weak. “I, uh...”  
Allowing the human to stumble for words a few moments longer, I giggled and leaned forwards, placing my palm against their shoulder and encouraging them gently to lie back on the bed in front of me. London obeyed, and I followed, placing the bowtie beneath their throat as I balanced at an angle. My hair did in fact graze their skin, I noticed, and mingled with London’s own darker hair, even further shaded by the water from their shower. My own hair turned steel grey when wet. The mortal’s skin was warm and still slightly damp along the curves of their neck, where the hasty towel had skipped. I let my mind wander. My fingers worked at the tie... I could feel the warmth of London’s shower, the leftover steam lending a cleansing and calming atmosphere to the room. I could smell the shampoo the human had used. Soft and clean. Their skin practically glowed, revitalized and happier with having washed, and probably having been viciously scrubbed of impurities with a cloth. Such a domestic image, was this mortal laying underneath me.  
My vision had wandered, stumbling gaze falling right into London’s.  
What were they staring at?  
Slightly star-struck eyes widened back at me.  
Wouldn’t it just... feel so good, so calm, and so warm, to just, kiss them?  
I was only a few inches away. Already so close.  
Could I?  
I nearly looked away, nearly ducked my head as I finished the bowtie, and stepped away. I’m certain that my shoulders twitched.  
Alas; instead, I very, very carefully, and very softly, lowered myself so that my lips brushed London’s for a moment. I closed my eyes. There was a general mixture of blueberry, sugar, and soap flavours. The human’s breath hitched, but with no squeak of denial, or turn of discontentment, I fully engaged their mouth with mine. Just for a moment; I could sense London’s heart rate speed up to dangerous levels, and I did not want to seem... oppressive. Not now. This was not the time to scare.  
London’s poor chest was practically heaving against mine, desperate for oxygen yet attempting to play it off. Steady, deep breaths.  
“I... have to... go to... work,” London whispered shakily, palm against my chest.  
Oh, human, if only I could teach you, teach you that these few moments matter so much more to you than you realize.  
Yet my own mind was distracted.  
“Mhmm,” I agreed rather dumbly, keeping my forehead pressed against theirs as I brought both of my knees up on the mattress. My hands drifted up, free of the chore of the tie now, and I placed my thumbs against the divots of London’s throat, feeling at how their body warmed the few drops of water left. Their pulse—so fast. I tilted their chin up and encouraged the human to kiss me again, with minimal subtlety.  
Please, mortal, let me have this.  
Let me have...  
“I have to go to work,” London stated again, the hand against my chest suddenly pushing me away gently. “Seriously.”  
Well, based on how actively the human participated, I had a sense that they didn’t mind the experience overall.  
I pulled back and grinned, then realized I was shaking.  
“Good thing I already tied the tie,” I giggled, holding up my tremoring hand for London to see.  
Too much unused adrenaline.  
London chuckled as well. “First day?” They mocked, lifting their eyebrows at me.  
“Can’t lose this—“ I choked. Can’t lose this what? Can’t lose this...human? This one in particular?  
Well... too bad.  
I shook myself out of my thoughts and coughed into my sleeve to hide my awkwardness. “Uh, I don’t... have a clever response,” I offered shyly.  
“That’s fine,” London shrugged, obviously trying to hide their own jitteriness. Sliding out from under me, London’s sun-tanned hand snatched up the towel from the floor and, with a casual flick of the damp cloth over their shoulder, confidently popped the door open and glanced back at me, grinning and—no, smirking, the human was smirking, undoubtedly at my confused and slightly taken aback expression, before they waved.  
“Catch you later!” They snickered, before pulling the door shut.  
After a moment of silence, I sighed and laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling and only dimly registering the damp spot beneath my own head from where London’s hair had soaked the sheets.  
You will see me later, human.  
But only to your detriment.  
...oh, but such sweet moments...


	6. Chapter 6

I stood outside, on the street, staring down at my ledger.   
Tick.  
There was London’s name. London Scathe. Quite an American name, perhaps of Nordic roots, for the surname.   
Tock.   
Maybe if I stood here, for long enough, staring at the little thumbnail image that flickered across the page—London’s face, shifting between a warm smile and fear—  
Tick.  
...maybe I could protect myself from the harsh reality I had somehow trapped myself in. London was going to...  
Tock.   
And I was... going to have to...  
Tick.   
The thoughts actually made me feel a bit sick, and I had to fight to dredge them up out of the fog of misery without gagging on them.   
Tock.   
I closed my eyes.   
Tick.   
Up came the blackness, down went the world, and up came the flames.   
Tock.   
Up came the flames, down went the bricks, and up came the screams.   
Tick.   
Up came the screams, down went the bodies, and up came the wind.   
Tock.   
Up came the wind, down went my scythe, and up came the reels.   
Tick.   
Up came the reels, down went the blade, and up came the blood.   
Up and down. Do the job. In and out. Cut the line. Cure the hope. End the pain.   
Up and down.   
All the while, there in the corner of my mind, I let a little body lie alone in the rubble, barely breathing, bleeding, and unconscious. A tiny pulse of orange, of bright light in my black and bloody world.   
Tock.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh I had this chapter written forever dammit. I thought I posted it already. Oh well. Huge update today then

The ambulances had long ago arrived and left, in waves and streams, taking bodies.  
I sat a ways away, chin in my hand as I looked out over the orange fire littering the ground. The embers swirled up and met the stars.  
As I was building myself up to... even consider... putting my blade through such a lovely soul, London started to move, for the first time in hours.  
I perked up, rising to my feet as the little body in the rubble started to shift.  
“London?” I called hopefully, bouncing from brick to brick over to them as my heart broke again. My voice was shaking.  
The mortal shook their head and threw up, hardly anything leaving their system.  
“London!”  
I paused at the human’s feet, staring down, in complete mental agony. Their form was weak, bleeding from many cuts that I could sense, and they seemed dazed and dizzy. Understandably, of course.  
“Under...taker?”  
Such a frail whisper as they pushed themself onto their back.  
London’s foggy eyes locked on me, gazing around my figure. I hardly paid attention to the fact that I glowed.  
“London,” I murmured softly, kneeling down next to my little mortal, who had at least been laying on sheets rather than bricks... which were now mostly red...  
London’s raw and dirtied fingertips curled into the front of my jacket and pulled me down as they opened their mouth, still panicked and disoriented.  
“Shh,” I offered consolingly, my own heart in knots. “Listen.” I wrapped an arm around their shoulders and supported them, tilting my head back. It was the same sound I had been appreciating for hours now. “No more screams.”  
I felt a corner of my ledger digging into my ribcage, and I felt tears leave my eyes again as I pulled it out.  
Maybe it wasn’t...this London?  
The thought was foolish, of course, and I knew that, but in a desperate storm of grief, I flipped the book open and looked at London.  
“London Scathe,” I offered, hoping to receive confusion and denial.  
London blinked up at me, grip on my robes tremoring. “How do you know my name?”  
Well, that was a knife to the heart.  
Overwhelmed, I couldn’t breathe. The cry seemed stuck in my throat and I grit my teeth, pressing my palm over my eye. I felt that if I cried anymore I may drown.  
Something in me snapped, and I let London slide from my grip. It was just a body. I turned away when I heard that body yelp in pain as I dropped it. The mortal started to shift behind me, crying as well, scared and confused.  
“I’m so... so sorry,” I murmured under my breath, voice quivering. I truly was.  
“...I’m...confused?” Lond—I mean...the mortal...whimpered. That was normal. Most mortals were confused by death.  
I shook their voice out of my head. Raising my hands, I sensed where my scythe was hanging, unseen, and called it up through the wind to me. I felt the familiar weight of the cold handle in my hands, and let it sit there for a moment, trying to halt my eyes from weeping any further.  
I slowly pivoted in my heel, facing the human in the rubble of the gas explosion.  
Their eyes locked on the blade that curved up into the sky and widened in terror. I paid no attention to the fear on their face. I had to detach.  
“Y-y-y-y...”  
“This is what I’m here for,” I sighed slowly, resenting the tears that still flowed. “I...wish it weren’t so.”  
More than you know, mortal.  
London slid through the bricks away from me desperately, voice panicked. “No! Please! Please, I can’t—“  
I swallowed my misery and stepped forwards, planting my boot on the mortal’s frail ribcage to hold them still against the ground. They gasped and fought me for a moment, twisting and thrashing until they settled for covering their face in terror and cowering. Eyes shining through their fingers, they stared at my scythe in terror, gaze following the motion of the blade as I adjusted it over my shoulder.  
“P-please,” I begged, another wave of grief overwhelming my voice. “Don’t make this any more difficult than... than it has to be.”  
I received no response. London was paralyzed beneath me, and for a moment, as I lifted the scythe up over my head, I was paralyzed as well. My eyes were on London’s, and theirs were locked on the scythe. I shook myself, lowering the blade a couple times to aim. I didn’t need to aim. I never needed to aim any more, but I... I couldn’t make... I could not make it swing fast enough,  
I just—  
I couldn’t just—  
I lifted the weight of it up over my shoulder again and flicked my wrists, letting the momentum of the heavy marble blade carry itself down.  
I did not want to see.  
As suddenly as I had decided to detach, my heart broke back through the brick wall I had been building. At the last moment before the curved blade sliced through London’s slender throat, I used all of my weight to slam the point into the rubble. The scythe cut into the ground like butter, sliding up until the curve of it just hugged London’s shoulder.  
Nearly fainting, I stumbled off of London and collapsed to the ground. I clung desperately to the handle of my weapon to support me.  
I buried my face in the crook of my arm.  
“I—can’t!” I screamed, hurting my voice from the harshness of the sob.  
Distantly, I was aware of London rolling away and crying. They might have thrown up again.  
The wind around us died down, and I hadn’t realized how overwhelmingly loud it was. Now, it was so silent, it was almost calming.  
“I...can’t, I can’t,” I pleaded in a small whisper, shaking my head again.  
I sat that way for a few moments, knees against the broken brickwork. Certainly, a symbol of my failure. All my walls had fallen.  
My heart sang to hear their warm voice, weakened by the events of the night.  
“When did night fall?”  
I focused on my breathing, a habit I couldn’t break when stressed. “The explosion happened four hours ago.”  
Well, that was it. I had failed. I had spoken to them again.  
Such relief, such exhaustion...  
“Why...haven’t emergency crews found me?”  
I sighed. Humans. Cannot accept when something they don’t like happens to them.  
“You’re dead, m’dear,” I offered sadly, too tired to be overly concerned with how London might react. “You’re deceased. They’re busy with survivors.”  
Silence. “N-no...”  
Damn. As I glanced up at the mortal, pressing their fingers over their own wrist in shock, the ground beneath us cracked. Some support beam somewhere must have just snapped under the heat of the fire—I had to make a decision now, one last effort!  
“Come back to London with me!” I screamed, reaching my hand forwards as the building began to shake.  
“Why?” London shrieked, eyes glazed. “What are you?!”  
“Because—“ the floor behind me collapsed away into the basement with a resounding crash. “Because I can protect you there!” Fresh flames, angry with new oxygen, leapt up out of the pit around us. “You’re a rogue soul if I don’t reap you! You need to be hidden!”  
From everyone!  
I had no idea if the mortal even understood my words, but I didn’t have a chance to hear their response either way. Like a sudden vacuum, the rubble under them collapsed, and gravity sucked London down into the blackness. I leapt forwards to catch them and missed, only having time to watch their hand disappear over the edge.  
Ripping my scythe from the ground with sudden force, I flipped it around and slid over the edge of the pit, tip of the blade barely catching the surface of the building. I was close to the ground when I swung down, pulling the scythe with me as I dropped. London was on the ground; a broken body beneath a beam.  
I hooked my weapon over the beam and whipped it across the basement, careful not to snap London’s neck as I lifted the mortal by the shirtfront. Jumping, I pushed myself up through the air on the handle of my scythe, the marble blade against the ground until I swung it around and hooked it on the ground again and dragged us both back up into the cooler night air. The fire around us was searing now, smoky with reignited charcoal, and I coughed once as I vanished into my mind, into the black world, and used my scythe to part the blue lines of the night sky with my own ghostly green, forcing my way through time and disappearing into the dark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated 2 chapters in 1 day make sure you’ve actually read the last chapter lol sorry bout that enjoy

As I had assumed, London remained unconscious through our travels. Stumbling haphazardly into the shop, I dragged the mortal’s lifeless body to the desk, laying them upon it to begin to stitch wounds immediately. I was so emotionally drained that only a minor fraction of my mind expressed appreciation for the mortal’s flesh as I stripped them. I had seen so many human bodies. All of them start to look the same, at least when approaching them with a medical mindset.  
Minor cuts and scratches. I knew how to deal with those.  
I peeled back their white hotel shirt and winced—burns, of course. Mind in something of an exhausted haze, I retrieved the jar of cold water from the kitchen and dumped it over each burn I could find, locating salves and dressings and applying them with careful precision.  
Standing back from the human and wiping my hands on my robes before running my fingers through my hair, I now had a new problem; where was I to put the mortal?  
The basement was bare, cold, and dark, and too far down. The upper level was comfortable, but not stable in support. They needed a bed of some sort. This was something I did not have; there was a frame in making, in the basement, but I had simply been procrastinating it for a couple centuries since I could easily sleep in coffins. I had a nasty suspicion that if London awoke in a casket, there might be some sort of negative emotional reaction.  
A sudden idea sprang to mind, and I abandoned the body on the desk to create a makeshift bed out of a gurney that was currently in the basement. Dragging it up the stairs and into the bedroom, I covered it in sheets and blankets before carefully draping London’s now clean and bandaged figure across the cushioned surface.  
With one last task in mind, I sorted through some of my many black cotton and wool robes in the wardrobe, settling on a very soft and very loose set to dress London in. Lifting the comatose limbs of the mortal was no issue for me, and before long, London was wrapped up warmly. I felt oddly protective, almost paternal in a sense that I hadn’t experienced before as I pulled the sheets up over their shoulders, tucking them in beneath the deathly still visage that stared back at me.  
The silent moments that followed seem to fall very suddenly. I had nothing more to do; merely wait. London would either wake up, or...they wouldn’t.  
My mind felt empty. Exhaustion quieted my typical comedic stream of consciousness, and I stood to the side of the gurney, in the cool darkness, alone. I could not help myself as my fingers slowly brushed down London’s cheek a few times, ghostly white compared to London’s warm and dark skin... beneath the long thin black lashes, over the faint blush, back across the dark oval lips.  
Silence.  
I didn’t know how long I stood there for. It could have been a day, it could have been a year. My sudden overwhelming love for this mortal was uncontainable; I took solace in continuing to allow my talons to carefully caress down London’s throat, drift up behind the ear, stroke through the soft dark hair. Obsessive, protective. How much... I would give... just to keep them here... whatever the world could ask me for, I would sacrifice. All I needed was this strange drop of sunshine.  
I actually doubled over and clutched at my chest at one point. The emotion was so strong, so overwhelming compared to centuries of emptiness, I had no sense in how to handle it.  
Every day I would come and stand by London, until early in the young hours of the morning, at which point I would nap. I began to feel slightly delirious from lack of sleep. Everything was funnier. Surely, surely London would wake up.  
They couldn’t not.  
They couldn’t leave me, not now. I-I was sure they would wake up. If no one reaped them, surely the string of consciousness would sort of... recycle itself, regenerate. I just hoped that it did not require some kind jump-start, some encouragement. I had no idea how I might begin that.  
The souls I had brought back previously were the same as London, except I cut into them and superimposed memories. Fake time. If I did not approach London’s the same way, I had to wait.  
A wound from a death scythe would not allow London to recover. At that point, my beautiful mortal would become ‘undead’ rather than... revived, or whatever I was hoping for.  
Just happy. I just wanted them to be happy.  
What a hilarious notion, that London may not wake up. How humorous. How ridiculous, unfathomably ludicrous.  
Please wake up.  
Any... any day now. 

No one saw me for over a month. The time passed in a strange haze of stress for me. London remained comatose, deathly still on the gurney in the back room. Nothing mattered except that I was there for them. It was an all-consuming task, a lifestyle of obsessive care for the catatonic... body... of my mortal. The darkness of the morgue hid the days passing from me. Counting the sunsets did not matter, not now, not if London couldn’t see them.  
After what I imagined was around nearly a week, based on the amount of times I was forced to nap, I attempted to revive the mortal with water, and then extremely flavourful tea. I used a pipette dropper, painstakingly dripping liquids into London’s mouth, amounting to a few tablespoons.  
Nothing.  
I tried various medications; healing potions, muscle-aids, pain hinderance, anything. There was no way I could poison them at this point, after all.  
Drop by drop.  
Day by day.  
After using my literal last type of medication I had available, with no results after several hours, I sighed and screwed the lid back on, discarding the little brown bottle on the desk before drifting back over to London. Staring down at the floor, dissociated, I habitually ran the side of my thumb softly across London’s now long-cold cheek before switching to the edge of my palm, fingers trailing down the small curve.  
A heavy sadness settling on my heart and a new delirium of denial slowly invading my mind, I smiled weakly, eyes flickering back to my human’s lovely face.  
Dragging the metal chair I had brought from the kitchen beneath myself, I laid my head across the mortal’s soft and resolutely unmoving stomach. My hair spread beneath me and crossed over my mouth, draping across the black covers.  
The room was so cold.  
One of my nails gently traced a line over the back of London’s hand.  
Tears dripped from my eyes, wetting the blankets in the silence, drop by drop, whispering my agony to only ghosts.  
It’s alright, London.  
I waited an eternity for you, London.  
My eyes slowly fluttered shut.  
I could wait an eternity more.


	9. Chapter 9

Toe to heel, heel to toe, back and forth, back and forth, in the five feet of open space in my bedroom.  
Perhaps tea?  
I had already tried tea.  
A cold cloth.  
Tried that.  
My thoughts were jumbled, disoriented, disorganized. They were often messy enough on a good day; being driven this insane was steadily exhausting me. Nothing made sense. Colours didn’t matter, time could bloody wait, and if the world could all just stop breathing so damn loudly for a few bloody minutes—  
Every now and again it occurred to me that I was hearing my own chest rising and falling, but that hardly mattered now, did it?  
I almost missed the break.  
I was so enveloped in the chaos, my senses, having been worn very thin for their efforts of trying to poke and prod London back into existence, nearly skimmed right over the teeny, tiny—*fractional*— pulse of orange.  
In a single crashing moment, everything flipped. Colours suddenly mattered again. The world was so silent, and time was moving far too slowly as my eyes widened to double their resting awareness.  
My muscles all felt like ice, my hand still poised at my side, feet ready to take another step away from the gurney. I had my face to the wall; my back was to London.  
With no small amount of desperation, I quickly raked the landscape around me with my colourless radar, and there it was.  
A teeny. Tiny.  
Fractional.  
Pulse of orange.  
YES!  
My heart leapt with joy, suddenly residing in my mouth, where I was certain it did not belong—  
London shifted.  
I heard the blankets move.  
First, disbelief; then, relief, in wave after wave of immediate adrenaline.  
Spinning quickly, I paused as London shifted again, slowly coming awake.  
Suddenly, I was self-conscious. My hair had not been brushed in what must have been at least a month; it probably still had blood and bricks and bits of nasty in it from the hotel. I had not changed, I had barely slept, I had not eaten or drank.  
I pulled my top hat down low over my eyes as London slowly sat up, looking sore and dim. My presence seemed to go unnoticed as they scanned their body, the gurney, and the room. Just before those tired eyes landed on me, I cleared my throat and stepped forwards, appearing from the dark as I clasped my hands behind my back.  
It was a fight to get my voice out of my throat, and it came out strangely quiet. “How are you feeling?”  
Before I could react, London’s gaze locked on me and the mortal screamed, leaping away from me. In the sudden frenzy, I attempted to grab the human, but leaning forwards proved to be hazardous; with London’s momentum, the gurney shot towards me and I tripped over it.  
Instinctively, I tucked my shoulder beneath myself and rolled onto the cement rather smoothly. All was well until London nailed me right in the ribs. My hat bounced away and, surprised by the sudden attack, I coughed and put my hand over the point of contact.  
“Sorry,” London whispered. “You scared me.”  
Gods, it was so beautifully fulfilling to hear their voice.  
“Obviously,” I replied, in a bit of a breathless groan. I masked it as pain, but truly, my voice was betraying my anxiety.  
After a few moments of silence, London spoke again.  
“Where are we?”  
Ah yes. I suppose I had not exactly explained that.  
Schooling my emotion, I pushed myself up on my hands and flipped some of my hair over my shoulder, out of my face. This was sure to get a reaction, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the thought. “My shop,” I offered, as the hair I was certain I had just banished fell right back in front of my eyes. “London.”  
“...like... me, London? Or... London...England?”  
From behind my protective fringe of silver, I allowed my gaze to rest amicably on London’s animated features, a sight I had worried I might never see again.  
“You’re not in California anymore,” I murmured, making every effort to keep my voice level, calming, comforting, and kind.  
London was still very clearly in shock, eyes glassy and wide as their warm skin flashed beneath the low neckline of my robes—and just how cute the human looked in my clothing, too.  
“How did you get me here?”  
I sighed. With the overwhelming relief of the constant stress of the previous month, my entire existence was just exhausted. The type of feeling you get when you have cried your last tear, or successfully outmaneuver an enemy, or laid down after a long swim.  
“Have you really not figured it out, dear?” I inquired politely, rubbing at my eyes with my thumb and forefinger tiredly.  
To my dismay, London shook their head.  
“I’m... I’ve got ideas,” they murmured hesitantly.  
Fine.  
Yawning and stretching before settling my head on my arms, I closed my eyes. “I am a shinigami,” I offered quietly. “A grim reaper.”  
I waited a few moments before I grew concerned. The silence was worrying, and I blew hair out of my face and lifted my eyelids again to study London’s expression, watching for warning signs of panic or shock.  
They seemed to be stumbling for words, round mouth twitching and hesitating. “You’re...a death god?”  
I was about to reply when London suddenly crosses their arms, looking rather dubious. “I don’t believe this.”  
Thinking back to the similar disbelief in the hotel, I grinned. “I am seven hundred and thirty-one.”  
What do you have to say to that, sneaky London?  
The mortal’s brow quirked up. “So you *are* a virgin,” they stated matter-of-factly.  
Oh my—  
“So you *do* believe me!” I riposted, gesturing victoriously. “And that’s... none of your concern!”  
“Of course I believe you!” London snapped back, hands in the air with despair. “I saw it happen! That’s what that was that night, right? You were... reaping people.”  
I listened intently, happy to sit and watch as London adjusted to the idea.  
“It’s just... difficult to wrap my head around, is all,” they finished shyly, tucking their knees up into the long loose robe.  
Well.  
No matter how long I was content to observe the human for, I had more pressing concerns. I pushed myself to my feet and dusted off my front. “How are you feeling?” I inquired again, taking a few steps forwards and helping the human up off the concrete. London was unstable, but having their dark and desperate fingers tighten around mine was such a reassuring feeling that I did not mind waiting for them to find their footing. Once London was happy, I forced them to release my hands and started to inspect them. No broken vertebrae from the fall? Perhaps a broken rib, no, excellent...  
London coughed in response, flinching occasionally at my cold fingers. “Like I fell two stories through a burning building and had a beam fall on me after that.”  
Could be worse.  
I hummed to myself habitually as London lifted their arms, allowing me to run my palms along each side of their ribcage, checking that inflammation was low and that bone positions were equal. Their sternum was still strong, not collapsed from the impact with the beam, so that was good... I was fairly certain I had fixed all of their cuts, but now that the mortal was standing, I could fully inspect the limbs for any other burns or scratches. An infection was not what either of us needed to face right now.  
How was the mouth? The breathing pipe was probably still going to be used, and too much ash or damage would hurt.  
I pressed my thumb to London’s forehead to tilt their head back, pulling their chin down to peer into their throat. A perfectly normal colour with some grey at the back; smoke damage. That was alright, and to be expected.  
“You still have a little bit of ash residue in your throat, so it may feel tickly for a while. Cough when you need to and drink plenty of water,” I advised, feeling foolish for playing doctor.  
London nodded and leaned forwards, and suddenly their ear was against my chest, head resting. My muscles tensed. This was odd behaviour, surely a warning sign, and then London’s knees collapsed beneath them. My arms wrapped and locked tightly around their shoulders and waist, and I was stuck holding a dead body once again.  
After a moment, I chuckled, adjusting to lay my cheek against the top of London’s head. I held the mortal that way for a few long minutes, breathing softly to calm my own nerves. This day was so pinnacle, yet so uncontrolled.  
“You have the right idea, London,” I mumbled, staring off into the darkness of my room. “I could use a nap as well.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while since this got some love. I was on an airplane for an hour and a half so I got to write yaaaay :)

I awoke, and checked on the human. Still on the gurney.   
That was fine. At this point, I felt that London would wake up again, presumably sooner, and now, I did not need to be by their side constantly; they knew where they were. I just needed to be in the shop for when they came around.   
For the first time in weeks, I brushed my hair, scrubbed my teeth and skin of built-up residues, changed my robes and unlocked the shop’s door. On my doorstep were three letters, all from the Earl. I did not bother to read them before tearing them apart and tossing them into the trash. The butler would be back around shortly, if it was truly such an emergency. I left my own note sticking out of the door.   
~come see me.~  
And that would just have to satisfy.   
The rest of that day, I cleaned the shop, sweeping the floor—which had not been touched in several months at this point, as I had not exactly expected company—I dusted and organized the desk, moved some coffins, wiped windows, refilled lanterns. Each task was a good time-consumer, although, I was not stressed. I was pleasantly relaxed. Regardless, it was somewhat relieving of any residual tension to have a few hours to simply dawdle, to putter about the reassuringly stable and familiar shop and tidy loose ends. My sanity was as intact as usual. I felt at peace.   
I slept in my chair.   
The next morning, I spent the better part of the day carving a bedframe. I had plenty of spare wood around, and it took me hardly any time. A human would be unfamiliar with the build, and would naturally be slow at putting the pieces together due to the inferior muscle function. I, on the other hand, had centuries of practise at nearly every small construction project, and hammering nails into place took me one swing with minimal effort. Eventually, I figured I would need a mattress of some sort; surely, upstairs, I had something to suffice. A cot of some sort, anything clean and somewhat soft would do.   
Finally, at about three o’clock, I had a presentable bed sitting in the kitchen. Its presence consumed all of the free space in the room, but that was alright. I would put it in the bedroom once London was awake and off the gurney. I didn’t want to disturb them more than necessary. I could wait. My patience had been tested; it was extensive.   
I glanced at the clock. Half past three in the afternoon.   
It was about time that the Earl would come by.   
Sighing, I departed to my bedchamber once more, stealing a comforting glance at London as I retrieved a new, pressed, and somewhat fancier set of robes. Not fancy—just fancier, with a couple shiny clips on the side that tightened the garb around my waist and chest rather nicely.   
I paused in the doorway and looked back over my shoulder on the way out. The mortal’s warm-toned skin was still pale and fragile against the black bedsheets, but they seemed asleep, resting, peaceful, and comfortable rather than...dead...now.   
A sudden flashback of how the weight of my scythe on my shoulder had felt that night ripped through my mind. Without my desiring to, once again I sensed how London had twitched so desperately beneath my foot. The fear in their eyes. The betrayal.   
I shook myself; a strange tremor at the thought of how close the blade had come to their flesh.   
Flicking a stray lock of silver over my shoulder, I quietly shut the bedroom door behind me. I ensured that the front door of the main shop was unlocked, and wandered over to my desk, perching myself comfortably upon it and smoothing out my robes and hair, spreading the silver out across my shoulders and draping it across one half of my face. It was not merely for presentation purposes. Something was making me uncomfortable, and my hair felt too heavy, pressing on my back and suffocating me today.   
My remaining eye fixed on the door. I clasped my hands and waited.   
It only was another half hour, the entirety of which I sat still for, until there was a familiar tapping at my door.   
The butler.   
My lips parted.   
“Come in,” I called softly.  
The heavy door creaked open. A tall, lean figure in a suit ushered a much much shorter and much more, frankly, feminine outline through the door.   
I grinned. “Greetings, young lord.”  
“It’s about time. Where have you been?” Ciel demanded, crossing his elegantly bedecked arms so that the tiny cane he carried rested at an angle against the sole of his heeled boot.   
I rolled my eye upwards, pretending to search for an answer with a long and low whistle. Tapping my nails against my desk, I tilted my head and flashed another violent smile. “Oh, out... and in,” I murmured with a cackle.   
Ciel scowled tiredly. “I do not have time for this.”  
“Do you ever?” I chuckled, leaning forwards on the edge of the table top so that my eyes were level with the child’s.   
Taking an instinctive step back, Ciel glared in response. “I need—“  
“Information, ye-es,” I drawled. “I am well-aware.”  
Sebastian’s coal brow arched. “Then you know what we are here for? I find myself surprised that you read the—“  
“I did not,” I interrupted gleefully. “Your correspondence means nothing to me if not in person, Earl. So speak up, go on, describe what you want...”  
“You are aware of the three homicides that occurred on the shore of the Thames three months ago?”  
“Indeed, I am, I am,” I nodded, running my fingers across my mouth and watching the child.   
Ciel cringed away from my gaze and continued. “And you aware of the missing persons reported last week?”  
This caused me to still. I had not kept up with any current events for forty days.   
“Unfortunately, Earl, I am not. How may I be of service?”  
“We think we can find them,” Sebastian offered. “If we know what killed the three. We believe the cases are linked, so we need a quick debrief on anything suspicious about the bodies.”  
I leaned back slowly. With a long sigh, I tilted my head back, forcing memories from long ago to the forefront.   
“Ah yes,” I whispered, suddenly pushing forwards. “The river. Where the bodies were found, with no external wounds, and no tracheal haemorrhaging...”  
“They drowned,” Ciel responded sharply.   
I paused and smiled at him suspiciously. “Did they?”  
“They were discovered pinned under the water beneath large stones.”  
“Earl, when you breathe, your lungs take in anything that is around them. Even unconscious, the human body continues to breathe on its own.”  
“Yes, I know,” the child snapped irritably.   
“The lungs were dry,” I murmured. “When I cut them open, there was no sign of drowning. Not only that, but, master butler, you should be aware of this... the bodies, once cut open, smelled of extremely bitter almonds.”  
Sebastian’s unnervingly quiet eyes widened slightly. “Cyanide. Really? That seems far too obvious, almost.”  
“Now,” I offered, slowly circling the Earl, purposefully placing myself between him and his demonic friend. “I can tell you who in the town has access to cyanide... for a price.”  
The Earl groaned. I watched from behind as his shoulders fell slightly, and grinned as I circled round to face him. “I have had a very trying month, and I am nearly at my sanity’s end.”  
“Then the last thing you need is more laughter,” the Earl argued, opal eyes glaring up at me.   
“On the contrary. That is not your decision to make,” I stated firmly, and Ciel took a step backwards as I bent down.   
Sebastian stepped forwards. “Jokes, then. I have one. Undertaker, I have a problem,” he began, and I grinned, cocking my head to listen.   
He continued. “I threw a boomerang years ago and now I live in constant fear.”  
As I registered the humour, my chest contracted in a half-hearted snicker.   
“Sorry,” I shook my head. “Will need a bit more than that.”  
“Let me tell you a story then, Undertaker,” Ciel piped up.   
Switching my attention from one prey to the next, I glanced back to Ciel, taking a small step forwards to pin both the butler and the child further back against the doorway.   
Ah, I loved this game. People were so easily manipulated by simple body language.   
“A couple was walking down the street when the man suddenly collapsed. A nearby officer quickly ran to aid the woman, who was screaming wildly that her husband was dead. The officer asked her to make sure that he was dead; the woman took the officer’s gun off his belt and shot the husband in the head before turning back to the officer and asking ‘now what?’.”  
I blinked once, then burst out laughing, stumbling back a few paces. The brilliant irony—the horrific twist—what a plot!   
Merrily, I planted my hands on my hips and opened my mouth to fulfill my agreement, when I heard the door to my right click open ever so softly.   
I was surprised to see London out so early, and walking around so adeptly. To mask this, and to break the tension the human had created by walking into the conversation, I clapped my hands loudly once. Ciel jumped.   
“Ah!” I exclaimed happily, spinning to face the mortal, petrified in the doorway. “London is awake!”  
“Wha- London?!” Ciel stammered, both he and Sebastian appearing rather surprised. “Do you ever make sense? Who is this?” He demanded, raising his palms out at the newcomer.   
With a giggle, I gestured for London to come towards me. Hesitantly, the mortal crept forwards, stepping silently out into the cold room, eyes wide and feet slow, like a bird sneaking around a cat.   
“This is London,” I offered, holding out a hand to incite London to join me and stand at my side. Heedless, my human stopped a few feet short of us. “...And London now lives here with me.”  
I had to fight with all of my willpower not to burst out into more mocking laughter when Sebastian had to close Ciel’s mouth for him, for how the child was so staring at my new companion.   
“Who--How--“  
I was about to elaborate when London spoke up. Raising my eyebrows appreciatively, I turned to watch them.   
“I’m just as confused as you are,” London shrugged, and I snickered quietly into my sleeve. Lord, I loved how blunt they were sometimes.   
“An American,” Sebastian murmured. Ciel blinked hard, as though water had been thrown in his face, and London just shrugged uneasily again, the lengthy sleeves of my robes fluttering far past their hands.   
Enough was enough. I had matters to discuss with London, and I was tiring of the demon’s presence.   
I stepped forwards purposefully, placing myself between the point of interest and my customers.   
“Factory workers at dyeing companies may, but they’d have to be in high-standing. Forensics teams, alchemists, antidote-makers, doctors, veterinarians. Those are your options,” I hissed quickly, trying to divert them out of the shop. “Now if you will excuse me, I’m afraid I will have to attend to your issues at a later date. Thank you for your visit,” I hummed, ushering the pair out the door. “And I wish you all the best.”  
With the door firmly closed and locked, I slowly spun back to face London. I was still hesitant as to how to introduce them to this life. Meanwhile, they had busied themself staring around the shop, taking in its atmosphere and its distressing contents.   
I was about to say something, introduce some conversation, when I noticed that something was not quite right with London’s eyes. The way they were staring around, but not really seeing anything, was perturbing, and I waited, watching and analyzing with every passing second. Perhaps the mortal was going into shock. This was what I had feared, that London’s frail mind would implode upon itself once it registered... all of this. Slowly, shakily, London wrapped their arms around their warm little body and scowled, taking a few hesitant steps towards me, as though unsure of who I was.   
Dark fingertips pressed against a slightly paler wrist, a bandage peeking out from under the long black sleeve. A slight flicker of the mortal’s eyelids. Tensing, I waited still, ready to restrain London with my own arms if it came to that, though I hoped that it didn’t.   
Then London’s dark and watery eyes fixed on me, and widened with terror.   
Like a violin string pulled too tight, the tension suddenly snapped violently, and London flew away from me rather than towards the door, as I had expected. The action, I realized later, actually slightly offended me, and certainly upset me, deep down. Of all things in this shop that could possibly represent safety, was I not first on the list?  
Regardless, I took off after the mortal, taking only a few steps before portalling across the room, right behind the fleeing human, who was just recovering from a stumble and continued to dash chaotically. I barely missed the back of their collar with my first portal. Damn it all. Immediately, I began to summon another doorway, intending to appear in front of London’s trajectory this time, when, right in front of my eyes, the mortal ran straight over a coffin, tripping over it and landing on the floor with a solid smack in a disorganized pool of robes.   
I dropped the portal away. London remained on the floor, panting and weeping frantically into the robes on the floor before slowly dragging themself to a sitting position. Tears shone on their cheeks. I clicked my tongue as my heart broke again.   
The human looked so tiny, so small and fragile, sitting in a big new world in a scary dark shop in robes that were far too large. As London pulled their knees up to their chest, glancing at me with embarrassment, I slowly stepped over the treacherous casket and knelt in front of my mortal. They stood out from the shadows of the shop like a drop of sunshine, swathed in protective black.   
Carefully, not wanting to spook them as I watched their face, I reached forwards, welcomingly.   
London shrank back and covered their mouth. Watching my human flinch away shattered every shred of my emotional stability I had managed to glue back together. I nearly felt on the edge of tears myself, until London finally flopped forwards with desperation and wept into my shoulder.   
Relieved, I savoured the sensation of wrapping my arms around the soft body in my lap, all the while they wailed and cried against me.   
After a few minutes of me stroking their hair in comfort, London managed to speak.   
“I...I...don’t...know...” they were interrupted by hiccups.   
I hummed gently to calm them, listing from side to side and pulling them with me, back and forth to soothe the panic.   
Soon, London’s breathing calmed, and they pushed me back. That was alright. I bent acceptingly with the force of their palms and let my arms drop as London rocked back on their heels in a strange crouch before rolling back to a sitting position on the floor, tucking their knees into their chest and wiping at their eyes.   
“Sorry,” they whispered sadly.   
“No apology needed, m’dear.” I could not help but smile. London’s character certainly seemed intact. “It is a lot to handle.”  
The mortal continued. “It just seemed so...so wrong for a few moments; staying here, I mean. I mean— I don’t even know where here is, and I just—“  
Well this was certainly only going to lead to another spiral of panic. I dropped my shoulders to assume an even less threatening position and put my finger up to my lips. London fell quiet.   
“I understand,” I murmured.   
I did. The disorientating experience of death and revival were familiar, despite occurring long ago. It was a sensation not easily forgotten; nor easily processed. It is like waking up in a dream. Suddenly you are just... in it. You cannot remember how you got there. Events just begin to happen to you beyond your control. It is terrifying.   
“You do still have choices, you know,” I continued in a lighter tone.   
London’s warm eyes scowled at me and they hugged their knees tighter. “What kind of...choices?”  
It was always strange for me to consider what particular choices mortals had in my presence. Was anything truthfully their choice? I had the power to manipulate them physically, mentally, and bend them to my will in nearly any way. I could rewind or prevent death, even. There was no threat a mortal to could make against me to enforce their desires. Did my allowance of their autonomy truly make them free? If I guaranteed their independence and safety, their freedom was only as valid as my word.   
“Well,” I began, pushing these thoughts aside. “You can still leave.” -I will let you. Probably.-  
“You’re in London, and it will be difficult for you to find your way elsewhere, since you are nameless in this world now. Personally,” I advised, putting my hands against my chest. “I recommend that, for your safety, for now at least, you stay here with me. You are not going to be kept hidden away in a dungeon.” What would London do here? “...you will be my apprentice of sorts, until the locals know you, and then you can head outside and do whatever people do with their freedom. Other reapers may come looking for you, however—and if they reap you, I cannot save you again,” I warned. “I can only keep you safe if I am physically there to stop them from doing so.”  
London’s eyebrows arched with anxiety. I smiled rather sadly... this was simply the truth. London required protection, and the stakes were greater than I could explain.   
I beckoned for my mortal. “Come on, dear. I cannot stop you from fleeing if that is what you wish, but, life here is not prison. You just have to deal with silly little me sometimes,” I chuckled and leaned back, draping my arm up on the casket at my back.   
Finally, some tension seemed to drain from London’s body. Dark hair drifted forwards. A tired smile flickered back at me. “That may not be so bad.”  
I swear, nothing so easily played with my emotions quite the way London’s every word could. I immediately felt relieved, and warm. “...as long as I don’t have to wear any bow ties,” they finished.   
I burst out laughing, glancing evilly at the sad puddle of robes and human. “Maybe I shall make it part of the uniform,” I snickered. “Black robes and... a pink bow tie.”  
“I’ll kill you, I’ll do it, I’m not afraid to take on a death god,” London threatened, eyes lighting up with challenge as they wielded an invisible knife in my direction.   
I held my hands up defensively and giggled. “I believe you.” My threatening bundle of cloth. I sparked up. “Mm! Speaking of uniforms, I suppose we’ll need to get you your own clothes at some point soon, hmm?”  
London glanced down. “What, you don’t think I look cute enough in yours?” They flipped the sleeves around and wiggles them in the air.   
I shook my head and snickered. “While I do think the style rather suits you, m’dear, I think that for practicality’s sake, we should get you a tailor to make you some clothes that are more appropriate.”  
“A tailor?!” London cried. “I don’t need a bloody tailor! I can just go to some... regular... boutique or whatever,” they mumbled, losing their certainty as they spoke.   
I smiled and shook my head in rejection. “See, that is just not quite how it works any more. You’re not exactly...” Mm, how to put this? “...well, you’re not exactly in your year. Did you notice the clothing the Earl was wearing?” The child was certainly the pinnacle of typical Victorian fashion.   
London blinked once. “So... what, I-I travelled back in time?”  
I nodded, watching London carefully for another bout of panic. Thankfully, they just rolled their eyes. “What next..”  
I suppose I might as well explain how this had all come to be. “Well you see, I’m... actually retired. A retired reaper. I’m done reaping.”  
“But that night—“  
“Yes, I was reaping, because sometimes there’s...” what was the word... speaking human was always strangely finicky for me. Especially English. Words of English were so similar to Latin words; they often originated from the same word, but drifted apart in meaning. “...there’s glitches in the system that send souls backwards or forwards in the dispatch logs,” I tried, pausing to see if London was following.   
“That made absolutely no sense.”  
“I know. Bear with me. All you need to know right now is that when these issues occur, and a time loop is in danger of forming, they send specialized reapers in to sort out the mess. I was in charge of tying up the loose ends. I did so—the only one I didn’t tidy was, well, you,” I continued, arching an eyebrow with a small grin at the mortal. “And that is okay, because I still sealed off the event, and no time loop can occur there. Once the other reapers come looking for you and realize it is me they must face, they will leave you be.”  
I hoped that was enough information for London to be able to comprehend some amount of what had happened. They seemed simply stunned, and I laughed inwardly.   
“But...why don’t you just tell them, then?”  
I chuckled. Because if I told them, I would be admitting to a crime while within bounds of the reaper realm. I did not want to draw that much attention to myself after the last... little issue. “Because it is easier to bring them to me. They will come soon enough. And there is a particular redhead that I will likely have to scare off multiple times...”  
William would undoubtedly hound Grelle to handle this appropriately. God forbid William show up himself. I could coerce Grelle, certainly, but unfortunately, the redhead was still far more in love with their own superior than they were with me. Tsk. Would have been far easier had I won Grelle over sooner. Ah, well. It seemed conflict was inevitable, and I merely had to hope that London trusted me enough to allow me to protect them.   
London shook themselves out of their stupor. “Okay...” they murmured. “Well that was a lot of information, and I think I need to lay down.”   
Before the American even finished speaking, London had flopped backwards like a puppet cut from its strings, collapsing onto the floor and folding their arms up over their face to glare at me from the shadows as I laughed.   
“Anyways,” I sighed and smiled. “The point is, American Eagle and—“ -What was it- Punch? Pinch? Blue? Blink? What the bloody hell— “—*Pink* don’t exist yet, and so, we will just get a tailor to make you a trio of nice... various... whatevers. Whatever you want, be it robes or pants or...whatever,” I waved my hands dismissively.   
London uttered some sort of groan of acknowledgement. “Maybe I’ll stick with robes, but, more my size.” Their chuckle was muffled by their sleeves. Then they bolted upright and pressed their palm over their mouth. “I’m laughing too much—I’m becoming as mad as you are!” They shrieked, sounding oddly delighted.   
Both of us laughed. It felt so good against my skin, to sense the reverberations of a second voice chiming throughout the shop.   
“Is that bad?” I demanded, finally straightening my legs and rising from the floor. I pressed two fingers against my mouth idly as I watched London breathe out of habit. I was still revelling, marvelling that they were alive.   
Well.   
That they were... responsive.   
I let a hand drift out, open to take London’s should they accept. The mortal wrapped their fingers around my wrist, and my talons enclosed upon their arm as I pulled them gently to their feet. London swayed in front of me for a moment, and I latched onto the opportunity to place a hand around their waist and spin us once before carefully letting London go.   
I really could not contain my joy at having the mortal here with me. I grinned to myself, cheeks and chest feeling light and inflated with unfamiliar emotion as I stepped back and jerked my head so that my ghostly hair came to fall across my eyes. I may as well leave now, I decided. Give London some time to process and adjust to the shop without my watchful eye.   
And to solve the paradox of freedom, I reconciled myself to the idea that London may take my absence as an opportunity to simply vanish.   
I placed my hat upon my head. “As such, I will be leaving momentarily to fetch this tailor. I am certain she will have room in her schedule for you. However, I must warn you,” I chuckled quietly. “She’s a bit... eccentric.”  
“And you’re not?”   
I spun on my heel to face the grinning, accusatory human. I waved my talon in admonishment.   
“I’m fun eccentric. She’s loud eccentric. I love her to death, but, I may be a bit deaf after this coming encounter.” I tapped my ear once and withdrew the rusted key to the shop from my pocket. “Make yourself at home. It should take dispatch a few more days to process your paperwork— they won’t come looking for you yet. Still, don’t open the door for anyone, hmm? And if people do come knocking, ensure the windows are shut. If they do not leave, hide yourself somewhere. There’s many empty caskets in the attic.”  
London gulped and nodded, wide eyes fixated on me. I maintained full confidence that London would be safe in the shop. I waved my hand, and disappeared through the door, locking it behind me before setting off into the street.   
I glanced up at the sky.   
Iron grey clouds loomed down from above in giants swathes of icy shadow... like heavy chains, poised and waiting for a chance to strike me.


End file.
